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ooihcnoiwlerh · 1 year

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Watching Glass Onion

My thoughts below as I watch (I was spoilered in advance and knew what would happen. Still enjoyed it.)

-Lionel, the smartest of the Disruptors who stabbed Andi in the back, seems to think Miles is a genius when he’s clearly not from early on. Also, Miles definitely faxes snippets he hears from other conversations and none of them are original. Or they’re just weird brain farts that succeed only because Lionel’s able to make something salvageable out of them.

-I bet Kate Hudson had a lot of fun playing Birdie. Her character/dynamic with Peg is like something straight out of BoJack Horseman. (”No, they’re all in my pod, it’s fine.” and her being so deliberately obtuse/ignorant/immature.)

- Dave Bautista playing an Andrew Tate type is kind of funny in a meta sense because as far as I’ve seen, he (thankfully) doesn’t hold any of those views in real life and is just the opposite.

- Claire’s an ultimately unlikable/irredeemable character but I do like seeing Kathryn Hahn getting snarky. Cute surprise Yo Yo Ma cameo. I worked with a guy who cooked for him at a restaurant in DC who said that he’s really nice.

- Love the hard cut from the Disruptors getting really excited for “Miles’s” puzzles and working to solve them together to Helen looking at the puzzle, deciding “Nope. This man and this puzzle are not worth my time and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction” and proceeding to smash the shit out of it with a hammer.

-I haven’t seen Knives Out yet (although I definitely will after this, and it had been on my list for a while) so Benoit Blanc’s accent is new and hilarious to me. It’s the Southern equivalent to the French accents from Monty Python and the Holy Grail; ridiculous and over-the-top and funny. More cameos

-”You’re not in the bath again, are you?” “....No.”

- The movie says so much with the different characters by how they approach wearing masks. Blanc correctly wears a cloth mask that coordinates with his outfit. Lionel the scientist wears a medical grade mask, also correctly. Claire the politician wears a mask out of courtesy/image but not correctly. Peg’s masked up and doesn’t want to hug anyone but also doesn’t say anything about how her boss Birdie is wearing a useless decorative mesh mask. Duke and Whiskey don’t bother wearing masks at all and both they and Birdie refuse to respect social distancing. “Andi” is holding a mask as she gets out of the cab, implying she wore it during the ride, but takes the mask off so that the other Disruptors can truly see her full image and whoever the potential murderer is doesn’t get any doubt as to who this is and, let’s be honest, other than perhaps Helen, Blanc, Peg, and Lionel, they don’t seem concerned with the pandemic.

- Either Miles Bron has and is hoarding some kind of covid cure that can be used as a throat spray or the more likely answer: it’s a placebo because he wants to get away with being careless during lockdown even more than he and the Disruptors already are and is just trying to appear like he cares about other people’s health. It’s interesting that Blanc questions the spray and its effectiveness more than the literal scientist. Also, another fun cameo.

-It’s subtle enough that it won’t be distracting for the audience but will amuse people who do notice that Blanc clearly doesn’t have a gag reflex, and in fairness it did make me chuckle.

- “Is that a Banksy?” “Piece of shit.”

- That’s either not Paul McCartney’s guitar because it’s a right-handed guitar and Miles is lying about it to sound impressive or he had it re-stringed just so he could brag about owning the guitar on which Paul McCartney recorded Blackbird. And then he unceremoniously drops it like it’s worthless after making a point to gloat about how priceless it is to Birdie. Amazing character intro, I hate him already.

- Of course it’s the MRA meathead guy who looks the other way in regards to his girlfriend very obviously cheating on him with Miles/pimps her out to Miles so she can secure better job opportunities for him.

- Knowing the ending already I love how Ed Norton played Miles’s shock and horror and complete incomprehension at seeing “Andi.” You see him having absolutely no idea how to process what’s going on and how despite the fact that he and Andi had known each other for ten years and he had to have known Andi had a twin sister, he clearly doesn’t think that could have anything to do with it and just thinks, “I guess I didn’t kill Andi hard enough and need to do it again?”

- Janelle Monae looks so regal and beautiful in that dress with that “dressed to kill” poise Helen’s trying so hard to keep up despite how scared and uncomfortable she is.

-Peg and I have the same reaction to hearing Miles say “inbreathiate”

- Blanc being bewildered that everyone’s just leaving their luggage on the beach until he realizes the Disruptors just take it for granted that “the help” will do everything for them. Not sure if that’s part of the act but still a nice touch.

- Miles Bron, barefoot, calling his fifty-person staff-estate a “commune for creativity” as a robot butler collects everyone’s luggage is probably a hard reality but it’s hilarious; also him giving people rooms “based on chakras” and Birdie being into that

-Am a little fascinated with Miles telling “Andi” that he’s glad she’s there and her reacting coldly. Is he trying to act contrite for her “attempted” murder or trying to seem like he’s innocent and realizes that Andi isn’t falling for it? Like, I want to know the conversation Ed Norton and Janelle Monae had before filming that interaction and ask what they felt their respective characters are thinking in that moment.

- I like how Benoit Blanc is a renowned detective but the moment he starts playing “dumb” and pretending to be naïve, Miles, who knows that Blanc’s a renowned detective, immediately falls for it.

-For such a closely-knit friend-group, these people really don’t like each other. The only Disruptors who seem like they’re still actually friends are Claire and Lionel.

-HOLY SHITBALLS BLANC’S SWIM OUTFIT. A FUCKING FULL-BODY STRIPED SWIMSUIT WITH AN ASCOT? FUCKING FASHION ICON. Oh, and him just standing chest-deep in the pool while holding a drink? What an icon. Love this guy.

-I can’t wait until Miles’s condescending speech gets used against him, especially since he throws Andi under the bus as he makes his redpill speech. I will relish it.

- Birdie, how many times do you need to get the hint that Blanc’s not interested and you’re making him uncomfortable? (And he’s canonically gay but he doesn’t owe her that explanation.)

- Peg looks at “Andi” with open admiration/potentially lust and honestly, same. Also enjoy Peg’s reaction shots. She clearly loathes these people, including Birdie. Really wish she’d cut her losses and quit.

- Birdie, Blanc isn’t calling you dangerous. He’s calling you shallow, insensitive, and careless.

- This movie, while it has some dark/dramatic moments, really is funny. The asscheek statue, the hourly dong, Blanc panicking and throwing his cigar into the water.

- The movie does say a lot without getting too much into it the contempt everyone has for anyone considered working class or “the help.” Peg’s been Birdie’s loyal assistant for about a decade, has been to these get-togethers, and knows Miles and yet not only does she not even get to drink out of a glass (even if it’s not a personalized glass) he makes her drink out of a plastic cup like she’s at a frat party instead of a multi-billionaire’s estate, and has never bothered to learn her name. And Birdie sees this, is aware of this, and doesn’t see the problem or treat Peg as a human being, either. After a decade of putting out all of her many fires and baby-sitting her. Lionel and Claire both have a brief blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment earlier in the movie in which they acknowledge/are nice to her but see how badly Birdie and Miles treat Peg and don’t challenge it.

-Maybe it’s because I watched Mrs. Fletcher, in which Kathryn Hahn’s character’s alcoholic beverage of choice is white wine with ice and maybe it’s because I wait on/bartend a fair amount of reasonably affluent/wealthy women who have specific instructions on how they like their white wine, but was a little amused at how Claire specifically likes “room temperature Pinot Grigio.”

- Just realized Miles probably poisoned “Andi’s” drink and it’s only because Helen is a teetotaler and also wants to keep a clear head for the evening that she survives.

-While Miles is not a mirror of every nepotism baby who has no true friends and no original ideas, it has to mean that he comes from money in that his mother took him the Louvre at the age of six when he’s an American? I’m an American myself born in ‘93 and both of my parents worked full time but there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that they could’ve afforded a family vacation to any location in Europe let alone Paris. Miles was likely born in the late 60s, early 70s and still would’ve had to have to have been born to fairly well-off parents. Two of my best friends who are former roommates and international military brats were both born in ‘69 lived, briefly in Europe, and never saw the Louvre. Also the audacity to override the Louvre’s security measures so he “doesn’t have to look at the Mona Lisa behind glass.”

- Lionel and Claire are horrified by Klear but still sign off on it for money because they’re too deep in and they keep acting like they’re the voice of reason but they still agreed to this and even though I know the ending I keeping hoping they’ll be better than their greed.

-I could feed off of Miles’s pouting resentment and sulking both times so far Blanc has “accidentally” insulted his intellect first by calling the first-scene puzzle “a child’s game” and for solving Miles’s murder mystery within two minutes of hearing about it and with no clues whatsoever. It’s especially funny since everyone’s praising Miles’s intellect when it’s made explicitly clear that he didn’t design the puzzle nor did he write out the murder mystery and yet still is so entitled he acts as though his intellect, which is nonexistent and he didn’t lend to either of these things, has been undermined. And that Blanc, still playing the naïve and socially inept goof, is well aware of the fact that his comments and intellect bruise Miles’s narcissistic and yet fragile ego and is probably having a lot of fun doing it.

- Janelle Monae having a couple of moments where you hear a little bit of Helen’s natural Southern accent when she’s really upset as she’s masquerading as Andi is *chef’s kiss* and Andi probably also had a little bit of a hidden Southern accent that probably came out in small doses during emotional or vulnerable moments so it’s not surprising that it wouldn’t be a tell.

- “I want the truth!”

-Miles did in fact hand Duke the drink that killed him. Also, a bit fitting that a man with a deathly food allergy to a common food item insists on keeping a gun on him even when swimming but never bothers to carry at least one epi pen.

-Miles literally murdered a man and is shocked that a detective thinks to call the cops this is incredible.

- I appreciate how, except for his girlfriend who didn’t even like him very much, all of Duke’s friends are more concerned for how it will look for their reputations to be associated with his death even as an innocent standby than the fact that he died. And once again, the moment anything doesn’t go exactly his way, Miles panics and goes on impulse instead of thinking anything through and only kind of stumbles onto something afterwards. Also, him scampering off the moment anyone other than Benoit approaches Duke’s corpse. He’s so bad at hiding anything! It’s incredible he gets away with so much

- I was prepared for this but it really is delightful that Blanc has a posh English husband played by Hugh Grant who spends quarantine making sourdough starter. Also a cute little costuming detail that Blanc gets fully dressed, complete with a necktie to meet with Helen, but still wears a bathrobe over his clothes.

- Janelle Monae’s consistent, realistic Southern accent as Helen that does sound like it’s from one specific region from the South vs Daniel Craig’s hilarious, all-over-the-place Foghorn Leghorn Southern accent. Let’s discuss.

- “Heavens. The dog ate the caviar again.”

- Helen is so goddamn brave and I love her.

- The fact that Miles is such an inept and clueless murderer who only gets by on privilege and luck that Blanc doesn’t suspect Miles as Andi’s killer because it would be too inept and dumb of a murder, though

- It does kind of make me wonder--did Lionel and Claire want to be a positive force in the world once? Were they better people before easy money from Miles made them take ethical shortcuts or were they always weak and corruptible people who just wanted a meal ticket? They’re clearly more conflicted about Miles’s actions than Duke and Birdie and feel more guilty about betraying Andi, but they still chose money and convenience over ethics. I mean, that’s a big message of this movie; these morally questionable/bankrupt people at times wanted to do the right thing, but chose greed and corruption over their conscience. But I guess I liked Leslie Odom Jr’s and Kathryn Hahn’s performances so much that I was curious as to their approaches to the roles and how they took their respective characters’ corruption.

- Helen being terrified because of the high risks as well as getting seasick as well as accidentally getting tipsy because she didn’t realize the kombucha she was drinking had alcohol in it and still managing to mostly confuse everyone is amazing and shows not just her intellect and quick thinking but the love and commitment she has for her twin no matter how uncomfortable the situation gets. Blanc says himself that she has a natural talent for sleuthing.

- “That is hahd kamboocha! That is Jared Letos’ hahd kamboocha!”

- Oh heavens, the foreshadowing.

- the detail that Serena Williams is one of the world’s greatest living athletes and Miles still hires her to do nothing except do personal training if someone is there did get a chuckle out of me

- “If I ever meet Jared Leto, I’m gonna whoop his kombucha-brewing ass”-Helen realizing she accidentally got tipsy off of his kombucha and also I would watch Helen beat the living shit out of Jared Leto

- I know the only redeemable characters in this movie, realistically, are Helen, Andi, and Blanc but I do feel bad for Peg.

-”Birdie...please tell me you did not think sweatshops are where they make...sweatpants.” *Annoyed, unapologetic shrug.* “Oh my Go-o-od.”

- Andi’s notebook indirectly saving Helen is apparently a parallel to Knives Out, in which a prop shows the heroine surviving killing odds because of someone who loved them. Again, I need to watch Knives Out.

- “Miles Bron is an idiot.” “No one tried to kill you, you vainglorious buffoon.”

- A bit depressing that Peg and Whiskey, who didn’t actively stab Andi in the back, are still imbued enough with the Disruptors that they also ignore any kind of conscience they have for greater opportunities, but not surprising.

- Miles looking at Helen, again, undoubtedly knowing that Andi had a twin sister, and clearly thinking, “What the fuck, is Andi a terminator? How many times do I have to kill her??”

- Miles is so reckless, egotistical, and fucking dumb. He specifically asked for people’s food allergies and killed Duke in front of their friends with his own food allergy and only succeeded because Duke was too proud to carry a couple of epi pens in case of an emergency. This is on top of the fact that he murdered his high-profile former friend and business partner all because he just assumed it would be covered up because he’s a multi-billionaire and he thinks everyone is as much of an idiot as he is. “No! It’s just dumb!” indeed. It doesn’t even occur to him that it’s Helen who’s alive in front of him until Blanc spells it out and you can tell from his reactions.

- Speaking of which, Ed Norton eats in this movie. He’s amazing as a sleazy, smug, greedy, narcissistic scumbag. I love to hate him every moment he’s on screen and he’s always great as a villain but especially in this.

- “Heavens to...you dimwitted, brainless jackass! Your one murder with any panache at all, and you stole the whole idea from me!”

- Miles doesn’t even get the idea to burn the napkin on his own. Lionel, completely and justifiably mystified, goes, “You didn’t just...burn it?”

- Oh, but how cowardly the Disruptors are when they think Miles will win everything even though they know he’s a monster and are horrified by what he did.

-”Totally circumspective evidence”--Benoit rolling his eyes. Same. Also, apparently Miles Bron is not based on Elon Musk and their similarities are coincidental but Elon Musk stans saw this dumb fucking loser and went, “This talentless, unoriginal, evil person is definitely my precious boy” and that is amazing.

-Oh, but how incredible it is, that moment in Helen’s eyes that go from heartbreak and grief and anger, knowing she’ll never get proper justice for Andi to that moment of, “But fuck it. Revenge is also a viable solution.” I could live in it. That switch in which she’s like, “He’ll never be held accountable for literal murder. Time to burn it all down” and in fact does.

-Also turns out I was wrong about the poisoned whiskey soda theory--she drinks it and then raises hell. Miles is just so dumb, impulsive, and reckless I didn’t put it past him.

-I also like that Blanc realizes that proper legal justice is futile but also that Miles deserves every negative thing coming his way and knows when to let Helen take the reigns.

- “You would lie for a lie but you wouldn’t lie for the truth?”

- No, Whiskey. You don’t get to try to kill Helen and screw her over and act like you’re friends and comrades. Same goes for the rest of you shitheads. And yet the fact that these people never truly liked Miles shines through makes them all feel empowered up to a certain point until they realize that their cowardice and greed and association with him will cost them personally and then they become cowards again.

- Self-fulfilling prophecy, Miles, you motherfucker. Also the transition from him being completely unfazed (both by Helen breaking the ugly glass sculptures and the fact that everyone joins in at first and that none of his friends actually like him) to horror is deeply satisfying to watch. Everyone goes, “But you went too far” as if Miles didn’t literally murder Helen’s sister after stealing credit for her life’s work. No, actually. She’s the only real disruptor here

-She fucking blows up the Glass Onion! (also Blanc just handing Klear to her like, “I won’t, but you should.”)

- Is Daryl meant to be a metaphor for Covid? He enters the picture with a case of Coronas going, “I’m not here” and is there when Helen blows up the Glass Onion because no way is the throat coat actually going to protect any of these people from, Covid and chances are Birdie (and Peg, by association) Duke, Whiskey or Miles (or maybe Claire) infected everyone.

- His one-of-a-kind car that follows him everywhere is ruined too. Good.

-I can’t tell you how hard I laughed when Miles realizes that he rented the Mona Lisa and it’s on fire so now he’ll forever be known as the man who destroyed one of Europe’s greatest paintings. Also I know there’s discourse on whether or not it’s the actual Mona Lisa. For the sake of this movie I’ll say it is; the Louvre was that impressed with Miles’s money and that the catharsis is that, in the Knives Out universe, that Miles ruined his own image by ruining the Mona Lisa.

-I know it’s a movie but Helen running on broken glass while wearing sandals freaked me out for a moment, even though it is pretty urgent.

“You’ll forever be remembered in the same breath as the Mona Lisa.”

- Oh wait Helen had to point out to him that he’ll forever be known as the guy who destroyed the Mona Lisa. Amazing.

-This has been pointed out before but I did see what you did there: Cassandra predicted the fall of Troy despite no one believing her and Helen precipitated it.

- They’ll all burn him to save themselves now that he’s not their sugar daddy, which is obvious. I’m kind of curious to see how they’d try to salvage their careers after this, but I’m pretty sure we won’t find out. Benoit Blanc movies so far work like Mad Max movies, and he’ll be the ally/helper to another working class woman who exposes a corrupt and greedy wealthy group of people and any Helen/Marta fanfics will be strictly on AO3. And here. Also I’m here for it.

-Miles Bron you fucking idiot. You piece of shit. Hell’s bells you really actively planned to murder your former business partner/best friend as you sent her a puzzle invitation to celebrate a murder mystery-themed party. I...incredible. Not in a good way. In a “bought the Mona Lisa on a whim and let it burn to the ground” kind of way.

- Okay, I know the look on Helen’s face is meant to be a million things, because it evokes the Mona Lisa but still. As far as she knows, since she wasn’t there to hear that the Disruptors have agreed to burn Miles in court, she didn’t really get to clear her sister’s name and that’s probably the biggest source of pain for her. That said she did get to obstruct a deeply dangerous fuel source by the incompetent piece of shit that murdered her sister and ruin his public image. It’s probably a mix of catharsis and a lack of it. Either way, I enjoyed the movie and will watch it again as well as Knives Out.

#knives out #glass onion #janelle monae #daniel craig #benoit blanc #ed norton #kathryn hahn #leslie odom jr #dave bautista #rian johnson #glass onion spoilers

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beware-of-you-98 · 4 years

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BAU as College Professors AU

*cracks knuckles*

Penelope

penelope is a graphic design professor

she loves teaching kids about the wonders of photoshop!!

hates illustrator and indesign with a burning passion

(the illustrator pen tool can fucking choke for all she cares)

(AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT THE FRONT AND COVER TOGETHER IN INDESIGN!?!?)

(she really hates both applications sm 😭)

is always reluctant to teach them but does it begrudgingly

(she’s just glad there’s other professors in the department that teach editorial and graphic illustration)

teaches photography!!

encourages the students to be as expressive as they want to be with their pictures!!!

she’ll be just as enthusiastic to see a close up of a sneaker as she is to see a sunset landscape shot

teaches the graphic design studio classes too!!

she always has music playing!!

half the time, her students come into the class and her glasses are all skewed, her hands are covered in paint or glue and some abstract art piece is sitting on her desk

when the students ask her what it is, she just gives the projects human names

“hey professor... what did you make there?” “oh, this?? her name is... pam.... yeah, pam”

she doesn’t offer up any further explination than that

and the students just accept it

her office light is always off

but she has multiple fairy lights in various colors hung up

her office is v inviting!!!

students come to her to vent or to talk about their problems bc the campus therapist doesn’t help all lmao

she always has on the most unique outfits but she pulls them off so well

a ray of sunshine tbh!!

Spencer

teaches major science and math courses

he teaches chemistry but only chem for majors in chemistry

it’s not that he can’t teach chem for non majors

but he sometimes gets too ahead of himself and forgets he’s teaching a course for non majors

it’s easier for him to teach for majors because the students can follow his ramblings better

he teaches upper level math courses and usually only has like three students in those classes

he’ll sit up on his desk and debate with the students for the entire hour about the riemann hypothesis

he gets excited because the students are just as enthusiastic as he is

he is two extremes

he either shows up to his classroom like a half hour early and writes out all his notes on the board so that when the students come in, he can go right into lecture

or he’ll show up two minutes before class starts with his hair disheveled, his tie undone and his expression glazed over and just be like “listen up i woke up late and just downed an entire pot of coffee i brewed with several cans of monster energy—i don’t exist on this dimension anymore”

on those days, he lets his students work on other projects for other classes because he knows it’s not fair to ask his students to focus if he’s not

he helps them with their homework

penelope brings him lunch sometimes to make sure he’s eating

he appreciates it a lot because between lesson plans and grading, he sometimes forgets to eat

he’s absolutely the youngest prof on campus

sometimes even his students are older than he is

but everyone addresses him correctly and respects him bc he’s really chill

his office is a disorganized mess

there’s files and papers all over his desk

and a sculpture penelope made for him (she named that one “roger”)

psychology professor

she really has a passion for teaching and learning about human psychology

(she may have started to become interested in psychology bc her sister was in the psch honors course before she died)

she comes across as a little hostile and unapproachable tbh

but she’s young

and she’s attractive

and she’s not conveniently what people think a professor looks like

she’ll respect her students if they respect her

she didn’t graduate the top of her class and work her ass off for the degree to not be respected

if there’s any inappropriate comments aimmed towards her or anyone in the class, she kicks the aggressor out immediately

she stands at the front of the room and lectures for the beginning part of the semester

once she’s built a good rapport with her students (and vise versa), she becomes more chill

she’ll sit on the edge of her desk and encourage discussion rather than following a book or a set plan

(she finds it’s more interesting that way anyway)

sometimes her students will show up ten minutes before class starts just to talk with her once they’re comfortable with her

she always answers her emails students send her (queen shit tbh 👑)

some kids in the psych major course playfully call her “mom” because she always asks them how they’re doing and about their week

(she hasn’t decided how she feels about it, but she also lets it slide)

always wears pants suits but cuffs the sleeves to the jackets

her office always smells like eucalyptus because she has a small mist diffuser plugged in

she also has a small fish tank with a beta fish inside (its the appropriate size too!!)

(she let a student name the fish—it’s name is sir bubbles of argon)

she also has a sculpture from penelope (“her name is maxine”)

her desk is very organized and clean!!

there’s a small couch in her office and her door is always open

sometimes, students will come in if they’re having a hard time and need someone to talk to

they know jj is there to listen and she always seems to understand (she doesn’t judge them either)

Emily

teaches three languages, both for majors and non majors

spanish, french and russian

(she’s also quite fluent in arabic and italian and can hold her own if she’s speaking in german or mandarin, but the students don’t need to know that)

she’s actually very intimidating lmao

students are so scared of her 😭

she’s serious af

(she smiles in class sometimes though!!)

(besides, she’s only serious inside the classroom)

(outside the classroom, she might even be as approachable as penelope)

always dressed in expensive black suits, polished heeled shoes with very dark makeup and a “don’t fuck with me” steely attitude to match

she also wears expensive watches

she always stands at the front of the class and slowly paces the entire hour

one time someone decided to fuck off in her spanish 101 class

she didn’t even yell at him, she glared

rumor has it the kid was never spotted on campus again after that

(BOY SHE SCARED HIM SO BAD HE DROPPED TF OUT)

despite that, her classes are some of the easiest to take

one because emily has a way of teaching that helps all students understand

and two because her voice is naturally very easy to listen to

students taking her french 101 are going to leave the class speaking fluent conversational french

she also doesn’t tolerate people being racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc in her class

if she catches a bigoted comment someone makes in her class, she kicks them immediately

she brings in her cat sometimes

he’s all black and his name is sergio

(he’s her esa that she brings in when she’s feeling really stressed out)

he’s clipped on a harness and sits on her shoulder or on her desk

if he meows, she accepts it as an answer

it’s the only time the students ever see professor emily prentiss as soft

well

other than the days she has the class watch foreign films because the students can tell emily has a fondness for them

her office is pretty organized like jj’s

instead of it being light and inviting, emily decorated her office on a more dark side

she has a few animal skulls, crystals and other gothic memorabilia on her desk or bookshelf

she has a small cat bed on the corner of her desk that sergio sleeps in

on the other corner is a sculpture penelope made her

(it kinda looks like a crow and emily named it kurt)

really, the only colors in her office are dark, deep purples and the small lesbian pride flag sticker on the back of her laptop

Derek

teaches history classes

but like modern history

from like 1940s to present

he refuses to follow most western history books bc they’re not accurate like at all

in his first year of teaching, the dean of his department made him use a book and he hated every second of it

how accurate could the information be if they portray king tut as a white guy???

he graduated under one of the best historians in the country

he also traveled a lot after he graduated and met a lot of people that had first hand experience with major historical events

that’s really what he bases his teachings off of—first hand experiences and encounters

every two weeks or so, he’ll invite in guest speakers to his classes to talk about what they went through (depending on his lesson plans)

that’s how he likes to teach and learn (bc he always loves to learn new things!!)

this is random, but also he is the type of professor to randomly box jump up onto a desk

he also sits in chairs backwards and has a more laid back style to teaching

his exams are based on what the students can learn from history rather than the information itself

he’s always dressed super casual!!

solid color, short sleeve button ups are a favorite!! (no tie)

he gets along with all the students

he’ll talk to the athletes about their games but sound just as enthusiastic and genuine talking with students who are majors in fine arts about their projects

he’s just a v down to earth professor tbh!!

he brings in clooney so much

like... every friday

it’s just another bonus of taking his history classes!!

he and penelope are dating

his office is full of sculptures she makes for him 🥺

he drops by her graphic design studio class with clooney to help out or even to just watch

he’s supportive and encouraging of penelope and her art!!

other than the sculptures penelope makes him, his office is a bit more disorganized than jj’s or emily’s, but cleaner than spencer’s

he has a few papers scattered on his desk but mostly he’s a little more put together

his office door has a small basketball hoop attached that he plays around with if he’s bored (and if penelope is busy)

both he and penelope have a dog bed in their office and water bowls for clooney when he comes in

Hotch

law professor

is the most intimidating professor on campus

seriously

if students think professor prentiss is intimidating, they haven’t met professor hotchner

he stands in the front of the room and goes over his lecture without pausing or asking questions

his voice is naturally low and intimidating and he actually never smiles

his attire and appearance is always so professional

suits

ties that are tied so tight, they look like they’re choking him

shoes so polished, he can see his reflection in them

hair always styled neatly

pants and jacket are always wrinkle free

his classes are difficult

not just because of the subject matter, but because he has a very organized, straight forward method to his teaching

students wouldn’t dare act up in his class—they’d be absolute idiots to

he’s quiet and reserved outside the classroom

if the others hear anyone talking shit about hotch behind his back, they’re always quick to come to his defense

they actually know hotch

they know he puts on a hardass exterior, but really he’s just a softie

he always lets them hang in his office with him

he listens to spencer’s ramblings and is extremely patient with him

he has lunch with emily every other day

even if she’s a pain in his ass 99% of the time, he likes that she sticks around and that he can trust her

he shows up to all of penelope’s art shows

and sometimes sits in on derek’s lectures when he has guest speakers

jj brings him pastries from the coffee shop on campus sometimes

he knows that he can come to her if he ever has anything he needs to talk about

(he never opens up to her but he really appreciates the sentiment nonetheless)

penelope has definitely made hotch a few sculptures

(he keeps them at home, but he does have one of her paintings hanging in his office)

speaking of his office it’s hands down the most organized out of all of them

his desk is so clean besides the picture of his son he proudly displays at the corner

he always has his lights off and his door shut

he seems so unapproachable, especially in class

but sometimes his lecture notes have crayon scribbles all over the page

or a small sock will fall out of his briefcase

and maybe, even for a moment, his serious demeanor falls when he spots them

and it almost reassures the students that he is human

Rossi

actually he’s the only one besides maybe reid i can see being a criminology professor

is a retired fbi agent

and successful author

so like that hasn’t changed from canon

but because he doesn’t work for the fbi anymore, he has absolutely no chill and tells all secrets

he’ll be like

talking to his class about a case he worked on in ‘83

and be halfway talking about details of cases that were supposed to be confidential

he’ll pause and go “oops” but keep talking lmaooo

penelope actually never made him a sculpture

instead she made him a coffee mug she made on the wheel and glazed herself!! (she even made her own glaze bc she’s extra like that)

carved on the side is “world’s best italian dad”

(this is because when emily introduced rossi to the group she was like “yeah he’s kinda like my dad” and now everyone calls him “dad”)

(he loves it so much though and proudly accepts his title)

he loves his mug so much and uses it every single day!!!

he’s the only professor besides penelope that let his students refer to him without the title of “professor”

he gives off kind old grandpa vibes

and that he’s only teaching because he really doesn’t have anything better to do during his retirement

but he’s chill and his class is interesting to take

(plus he really does love to teach)

he’ll ramble on and on about his “golden years” as an agent

he will especially talk a student’s ear off if they come up to him and tell him that they read one [or all] of his books

he writes a different quote on his board every single day

his attire is always business casual

he sits on the edge of the desk or on a swivel chair because it’s comfy

he was doing a lecture on jack the ripper and just pushed himself around on the swivel chair, slowly spinning around the front of the room

his voice kept changing in volume every few words because of him facing the wall and then a few moments later facing the classroom

his students refer to him as a “living breathing meme”

he has no idea what the fuck that means

but he take it as a compliment

his office is empty because he goes home after he’s done with classes lmao

he doesn’t do paperwork

or fuck with technology (he never fucking responds to emails smh)

so he has no need for an office

#criminal minds au #penelope garcia #spencer reid #jennifer jereau #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotch hotchner #david rossi #honestly not much has changed about rossi from canon #but #ye #also #half of these are based on my college experiences lmao #my history professor brought his pair of poodles to class like every other week and it was the only reason i didn’t drop the class #my math professor walked into class one morning and just fucking box jumped up onto a fucking desk for no reason #during dead week my graphic design professor let us watch katy perry music videos for an entire class period it was grear #my gd studio professor was a weird dude but his class was so much fun #i’m still pressed about professors not responding to my emails tbh #professors: email me if you have any concerns or questions #me: (emails profs)#profs: (never respond or even read emails)#fuck right off lmao #long post #emily has a sculpture now pls #college professor au

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Note

Snow being shoved down the back of your coat + Roman or Mickey

@screechingexpertpruneneck & @girlinthecorner also requested this prompt for roman

Tremors from ice and anger still vibrated through you as you made your way through the lobby. The snow that had been unceremoniously pushed down the back of your coat had long melted and left your sweater and undershirt wet and sticky with condensation and sweat. The water that your clothing had soaked in had begun to freeze against your clammy skin and you were beyond the meaning of uncomfortable.

You were uncomfortable with a thick helping of rage draped over the top.

All thanks to Roman fucking Godfrey.

Your family, along with his, were in Aspen for the holiday break. Your mother and Marie Godfrey had met in college as doe eyed sorority girls, and remained close through the years as they both went on to marry high level executives. Heartbroken that their executives chose to run their companies on opposite coasts, your mothers had insisted on bi-annual joint vacations -- one in the winter and one in the summer.

Two years into the extravagant vacations, Olivia Godfrey nosed her way into the festivities. Your mother and Marie were less than pleased, but Norman had insisted it was the right thing to welcome her with open arms on the vacations. It would be good for Olivia and her two small children to have some socialization. And so, Olivia, Roman and Shelley were added to the bunch (though, not without any reservations from the two matriarchs).

The destinations varied, but they were always somewhere festive and approatite. Winter: Sweden. Summer: Hawaii. Winter: Iceland. Summer: Puerto Rico.

This year it had been decided that you all would pack up and head to Colorado for two weeks of icy December fun.

While some of your peers dreaded family vacations and time spent away from their friends, you never minded. Your father kept you happy with a credit card in hand and your mother was too busy with Marie to provoke you. You were free to shop with Letha or swap novels with Shelley, or venture out on your own in whatever new and exciting landscape you were in.

And then there was Roman.

There was always Roman.

Over the years, Roman had morphed from reluctant player in your and Letha’s fantasy realms, to cruel preteen ready to insight chaos if looked at wrong, to outrageously charming and good looking young man who knew every trick and how to use them. He hadn’t lost the glint of wonder from his childhood, or his deep seated anger from his adolescence, he had just gained a sauve charisma that was dangerous when he used it correctly (and he always did).

You and Roman had a flirtation, one that sometimes blossomed in chaste touches and charged glances; or through amorous conversation and zealous foreplay.

Each and every vacation things were the same; you and Roman resumed wherever you had last left off, just to press pause the second you boarded separate airplanes.

Sometimes you would yearn for more, when he’d send you the occasional tender text or call in search for phone sex on the off season from your vacations. But, you shooed away any lingering warmth that he quelled in your stomach as soon as you recognized it. Roman Godfrey was no good for you, no matter how delicious he tasted and how blissful it was to surrender with him.

You could only indulge so much in a good thing before the repercussions reared their ugly heads. And Roman most certainly had repercussions, and pitfalls, and isms that you hated. And with enough time spent with him, you would see them all in spades.

His immaturity. His possessiveness. His stubbornness. His short temper. His inability to apologize.

Somehow all of your least favorite traits that he possessed came out one morning before he, Letha and yourself were set to go skiing.

Bundled in thick layers of wool and cashmere, down-feathers and ski bags slung off your shoulders, you three headed out to the slopes. You had spent two semesters at a private school in Whistler when your father was sent to Canada for work, and because of this, the only one out of your little group with any ski experience. You were excited to revel in your skill and teach Letha and Roman how to make it down the hills in one piece (lots of pizza and french fries to come…). But before you all headed to the chair lifts from the resort, Letha wanted to stop for something warm to drink and a bathroom break.

“I really think you’re going to appreciate all the expertise I can offer you,” you commented to Roman as you stood in line.

He blew an indigent puff out through his nose, “I don’t think I’ll need any help.”

A grin pulled at your lips, “Roman, with your long legs, you’re going to be like a baby deer out there. You are going to need my help.”

Roman glanced down at you with an amused expression, growing his own smile at the sight of yours.

“Yeah? You think I’m gonna go up there and eat shit? Fall on my ass so you girls can laugh at me? Fat chance.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll kiss all your bruises afterwards,” your grin smooths to a smirk and you can see his eyes light with the pictures of the after hours activities you two could yourselves into.

“Next!” the barastisa called out and you and Roman removed yourselves from your bubble long enough for you to order.

Your ordered Letha’s usual (a white mocha with a splash of peppermint) your usual, along with Roman’s (a black coffee with two sugars).

You hadn’t thought the barista was flirting with you. You hadn’t thought you were being overly friendly. You didn’t even think Roman had been paying any attention at all, he had been clicking away at his phone at the time. Though, after you paid and were waiting for your drinks to be made, it was clear that any and all banter that had begun in line would not continue.

Roman’s posture was ridged, as he stood two full paces away from you. His lips in a hard line and his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets. You wanted to ask what had happened. You wanted to ask if he was ok, if something on his phone had upset him, if he was having second thoughts out the day you and Letha had planned? But you didn’t. Roman had angled himself away from you, and was looking over his shoulder every few seconds to search for Letha.

When she returned from the restroom, you silently handed her her mocha as she naively asked what she missed. You simply shrugged and you two shared a moment of knowing eye contact that Roman was in one of his trademark moods.

With linked arms and an effort to disregard Roman’s shift, you both clenched your paper cups, and headed toward the mountain in high spirits, ready to ski.

You were beginning to feel the pleasurable surge of adrenaline and the thrill of excitement the closer you got to the chair lifts. You were buzzing with anecdotes and tips and memories from your time abroad. Letha was playing along, nodding, oh-ing and ah-ing at the right moments, and thanking you for your know-how.

You and Letha were nearing the line for the lifts and you were about to pull her aside and help her onto her skis, when you were suddenly yanked backward.

Within the lapse of a blink, Roman had gripped the collar of your coat and jerked you back with such a power and haste, that your dwindling coffee was clamped in your fist and exploded onto your gloved hand and sleeve. When he had roped you closer by your protruding collar, he then continued to take a heap of snow and shove it down your back.

The snow shocked your senses, and your skin blistered from the cold and your muscles flinched and recoiled from the temperature change.

When it was all over, Letha was horrified, Roman was laughing and you were mortified. He had made such a spectacle of his antaic, that most of the line had turned to see what had happened. Not surprising by the decibel of Roman’s laughter and your scream.

“Roman!” Letha reprimanded as she fled to your side, doing her best to wick away some of the coffee from your sleeve and the snow from your neck, “What is wrong with you?”

“What? Never had that happen with any of your fancy french ski instructors?” he bit out maliciously, still laughing, but in a forced way. He was only laughing to continue your humiliation.

“You’re such an asshole!” you screeched.

“No, I’m funny. That was funny. It’s not my fault you can’t take a joke.”

“You’re not funny, Roman,” you whipped around, almost topoling a fretting Letha as you did, “you’re just a cruel little manchild who acts out when no one is giving his tantrum any attention!”

“Yep, see,” Roman gave a patronizing grin, “Can’t take a joke.”

He looked at you with condescending eyes, and he only seemed to grow happier the angier you became.

No matter how much you had been looking forward to the excursion, you refused to spend the day with him after this pathetic stunt. You picked up your discarded ski bag and let it hit Roman hard on the shoulder as you began back down the mountain.

“Aw, come on! Aren’t you the savant? Aren’t we getting ready to watch you show off your Olympic skill? Can’t do that if you throw a bitch fit and pout!” he called after you.

You could hear Letha’s frail calls as well, but at least she knew better than to come after you. You wanted to be alone and away from anything Godfrey.

When Letha and Roman came back later in the evening, he knocked on your suit door and was greeted with silence. He called your name, he dialed your number, he texted, but was left with no response. He was sure you were just enacting your silent revenge on him for the snow incident and he decided to let you. No matter how much he was looking forward to having his hands all over you (it’s all he had been thinking about for months).

But the next day, you were still nowhere to be found. Letha had been sworn to secrecy on your whereabouts, and even she was sticking her nose up in contempt when he entered a room.

He knew that you were serious about your indignation for him and what he had done, and he was becoming restless. He was only awarded fourteen days of your time twice a year, and he liked to make the most of the moments he was allotted. There was usually a day or two you would punish him for something he had said or done, but you always caved soon enough. Roman wished he knew what was so different about this time that had destroyed your usual refractory period for his bullshit.

“You embarrassed her in front of everyone,” Shelly’s automated voice informed him on the third day of silence.

Roman himself had taken to sitting in his suite, laying in bed with a scowl and an obligatory nasty bark when anyone commented on his new hibernation.

“You always teased her but this was different. You laughed at her and belittled her. She has every right to ignore you.”

Roman knew she was right, but only rolled onto his side so his back faced his sister. He didn’t want to admit that he was wrong, he didn’t want to have to tuck his tail and apologize. Because while he had embarrassed you, fessing up to his actions would embarrass him. He didn’t do well with putting his pride aside and accepting that what he did was wrong.

But as he spent the rest of the day holed up under hotel sheets and eating fresh potato chips from room service, Roman realized that maybe it would be worth it in the end. His moment of discomfort would pay off. Swallowing his ego and apologizing would be ok if it got him back in your good graces (which he so desperately craved).

That night, everyone gathered to have a nice dinner together. “Nice” entailed thousand dollar tabs, the highest quality champagne and whiskey, caviar and prime rib, and whatever anyone desired.

Roman had arrived before you, and made sure that the seat beside himself and your mother were the only two open by the time you joined them. As mad as you were at him, you would never willingly sit next to your mother, lest you want to spend the evening being picked apart by her freshly manicured fingers.

And sure enough, when you entered oh God, had you always been that beautiful? you spotted the seating arrangement and scowled. Your step faltered briefly in front of the open chair by your mother and Roman’s heart sank, before it slowly pushed its way back to the surface as you decided against your choice and rounded the table to take your place next to him.

“You look stunning this evening,” he whispered to you as you smoothed your napkin over your lap.

“You look like a kiss ass,” you replied, curtly thanking the waiter who was currently filling your glass with wine.

“Am I not allowed to compliment you now?”

“Stop talking to me. I don’t like you.”

Roman sucked in a breath and turned back to his appetizer. This was going to be a long evening.

Roman spent the rest of the dinner slowly chipping away at your resolve; with flirty jokes, jabs at your parents, reminiscing about your shared time together, and heaps of compliments and praise. He even pulled out his nickname for you at some point.

“I love when you run your fingers on the stem of the glass like that, sweet girl.”

Roman saw you put a strained pressure on the glass as he spoke.

Even after pulling out all the stops that he could, Roman didn’t seem to be making headway with you, which he despised. There was a flurry of fear in his chest.

Had he fucked up one of the very few good things in his life because of some stupid bout of jealousy?

As the night drew on, and all the parents were fat and happy with fine food and wine, they all drunkenly dismissed the four of you to do whatever you pleased.

Letha and Shelly, who had sat on the other end of the long table from you and Roman, fled away together. Maybe in hopes to avoid the tension between the two of you, or in hopes to force you both to reconcile. Either way, it left you and Roman to walk to the elevator alone.

Taunt, uncomfortable tension lay between you both on your path to the elevator. When you got to it and pressed the button for the upper levels, you tapped your foot impatiently for it to arrive.

Roman decided to strike.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever?”

Silence.

Roman frowned, “I’m sorry, alright? Is that what you want to hear?”

Silence.

“It was -- fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. But yeah, I just, it was wrong. I’m sorry.”

More silence. You stepped forward to press the button again.

“Jesus Christ! I’m sorry! I said it, can we just put this behind us now? I was just tugging on your pigtails or whatever moms say. That and I don’t know, immaturity of something…”

“It was all immaturity.” you finally spoke.

So, Roman decided to steer into the skid. He told himself that he was only admitting to all of this so you would blow him later, but he secretly knew that everything he said was absolutely and undoubtedly true.

“Yeah, ok, it was immaturity and the old Godfrey gene of not knowing how to grapple with emotion.”

“Letha can express her emotions quite healthily,” you countered, still refusing to look at him.

He sighed, “I think only the men in my family got it… and my mother. But she’s a whole bag of fucked up, so…”

There was another bout of silence before Roman heard you let out a breath.

“You really hurt my feelings. You embarrassed me and stained my coat.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Roman replied, his face crestfallen.

“You tugged me back so hard that my neck was all red and rashy from the pressure and my clothes for the rest of the day.”

Roman felt despair bubble in his stomach, “Fuck, I’m so sorry sweet girl. I’m an asshole, I know that.”

“Yes, you are.”

The elevator at last opened it’s steel doors and you and Roman entered and pressed the number for your floor (Roman pressed the button before you could, in his search for forgiveness and to be gentlemanly).

As the elevator started up, Roman inched toward you until his hand rested on the hollow of your back. You didn’t flinch away, and after a moment you placed your temple to his shoulder.

He felt a feeling of overwhelming relief as he took the chance at creeping his nimble fingers toward your waist, to gain better traction to turn you into his chest. You went easily and willingly, and nuzzled your nose into the hollow of his throat in the way that he loved and longed for on lonely nights in Pennsylvania.

Roman held your waist tight with one hand and brush your hair away from your neck to trace tender lines up and down your vertebrae. He felt a tremor quake through your body and smiled. He continued his ministrations until the doors opened to reveal the floor you were both staying on.

You let Roman lead you to his suite with no hesitation and let him worship your body for a majority of the night. And later, you let him feed you ice cream in a hot tub and you let him snuggle your naked form so he could go to sleep.

Indulging in Roman Godfrey always had its bitterness, but as he laid sleepy kisses across the expanse of your skin, you thought made the sweetness was worth it.

#I hope you like it!#I haven’t written anything good in a long time so yeah anyways lmao #this got long #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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yootaesowlwrites · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be There - [10]

Series Masterlist.

To becoming part of the taglist either like this post, or send me a message.

TAGLIST:

@taichoushadow // @vanessa1102 // @melissa-anderson // @dybalalover10 // @lostdreamsinpaper // @kirschy21 // @farmgirlfinna // @marfld // @distressedhollandfields // @because-i-can-stuff // @flyawayprincess // @exubcrxnt // @flashcal // @eveieforeve02 // @crazy-violin // @nightbaroness12 // @myaestheticidk // @reggxe // @hellie98 // @fwess // @lu-bxby //

As they approached the mansion, the first thing (Y/n) noticed was the large golden gates with two large lion statues seeming to guard it, as they neared the main entrance (Y/n) also noticed the large fountain surrounded by a small garden, obviously for decorative purposes, (Y/n) also heard the sound of small rocks being crunched by the wheels of his sports car, those tiny decorative rocks which for some reason people found pleasing, but (Y/n) absolutely hated them, why would anyone want that, especially in front of the house, you couldn’t even take a peaceful walk without needing to put on a pair of proper shoes, if she wasn’t aware of the situation she was in, she would have commented on it, but instead she kept quiet.

Max parks his car near the main entrance, cutting the engine and pulling the key from the ignition, he glances at (Y/n) and saw her staring at her hands that were on her lap, he climbs out the car and made his way around to the passenger’s side and opens the door for her, she could hear the crunching sound from the rocks underneath his shoes as he moved, she stares up at him before slowly stepping out the car, the place was large with cream coloured walls, it wasn’t anything that she expected it to be, surprisingly, it was pleasing to look at, apart from the rocks scattered on the ground.

“Welcome to my house,” Max says while closing the door to the sports car, he couldn’t exactly call it home, so instead, he called it a house, although it was anything but the size of a house, a home should have a warm feeling, something the mansion didn’t have, a home should feel welcoming, which most of the time, the mansion didn’t feel very welcoming, he guides her to the front door and allows her to enter first, she lets out a relieved sigh after hearing and feeling unpleasantness from the rocks outside, Max looks at her for a moment as he closed the front door. “This way.” He guides her down a long hallway, the walls were once again a light colour instead of a dark colour she had been expecting, as they neared his office, she could hear chatter coming from a room, she didn’t understand the language, but she was certain that it was French, Max pushes the door open, revealing the three men from the restaurant, Albon, Galsy and Kvyat, talking or more discussing something, corner clear on their faces.

“I’m here,” Max states as he stared at them. “I’ll be in my office, don’t disturb us unless it’s important.” Gasly wanted to say something, only for Albon to stop him, muttering something to him, Max closed the door and continued leading (Y/n) to his office, dark wood, black leather couches, a large wooden desk as well as bookshelves decorated his office, (Y/n) had no doubt that the bookshelves were just there for show, to hide weapons or even a secret room, she was certain about it when she had spotted the scraped on the floor near them.

Fear, that was the only thing (Y/n) could feel as she sits on one of the black leathered couches in the spacious office, Max sat on the opposite couch across from her, he had just finished explaining what he was and what he does for a living, even giving her the names of each business and building he owned, everything slowly sinks in, but she refused to show it, she didn’t want him to see how scared she was, but she was sure he could see it, possibly even sense it.

“Do you have any questions?” Max asks in a soft sincere tone, (Y/n) shakes her head, unsure what she could ask and which questions could get into a lot more trouble or worse, her gaze falls onto the floor, finding it more interesting than the shelf behind Max. “(Y/n), I would never hurt you.” He sounded so convincing, but how could she believe him? “If I wanted to bring any harm to you, I would have done so a long time ago.” He stood from his seat causing (Y/n) to shiver with fear in her seat, Max quickly picked up on it. “(Y/n)…” Hurt evident in his voice, but before he could continue, somebody knocked on the large wooden doors, interrupting him, (Y/n)’s eyes wide as she looks up from the ground, her eyes displaying the fear she felt. “I told them not to disturb us.” Max strides towards the door and pulls it open, glaring at whoever stood on the other side of it. “If I remember correctly, I said don’t disturb us.”

“And I am deeply sorry to disturb, Sir, but we thought this could be important,” Pierre says before hosing something to Max on a tablet, causing him to snatch the device from Pierre’s hand as anger bubbles inside him, a picture of (Y/n) was attached in an email. “She is in danger, and so are we.” Pierre tried to say it as quietly as possible, but failed, (Y/n) had heard him. “Butler’s hang knows about her, and they are threatening her if you do not meet the demands they ask for.”

“How did they find out?” Max questions, how had he not noticed? How did nobody notice that butler had been following them?

“We're not sure yet, but we believe he had seen her with you at some point, we just don’t know where,” Pierre explains, (Y/n) licks her lips, her heart pounding in her ears, but she needed to ask.

“Wh—Who’s Butler?” (Y/n) asks, her voice faltering for a second, Max turns to face her and saw her standing from the couch, nervously fiddling with her fingers, he quickly learned that she did that when she was nervous.

“A nobody.” Max states. “Nothing but a piece of scum.” His voice hard and cold, causing her to take a small step back, afraid. “You shouldn’t worry yourself over this lowlife, he’s a nobody.” His gentler this time around, he looks back at Pierre. “Thank you, Pierre, we will have a meeting later, let everyone know.” Pierre nods his head and glanced at (Y/n) before leaving the office, Max closes his door as he turns the tablets off, how was he going to explain to (Y/n) that her life was in danger, and he couldn’t, no he wouldn’t let her eave tonight.

“He said, she’s in danger.” (Y/n)’s soft voice says from behind Max, she already knew what was coming. “Am I in danger?” Max turns around to face her a takes a step towards her but quickly halts when he saw her tense.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, (Y/n),” Max says. “I won’t let that piece of scum come near you.” (Y/n) slowly nods her head, her eyes looking everywhere but at him, her eyes finally fall back to the floor, a sigh leaving her lips.

“I can’t go home tonight, am I right?” (Y/n) asks, already knowing the answer to her question, but she had to ask.

“I would rather you don’t,” Max says. “Not with somebody from my world knowing about your existence.” But what he said next surprised her, she was sure that he wasn’t going to let her go home. “But I am a man of my word if you wish to go…” He trails off, he didn’t want her to leave. “I won’t stop you.” He would rather have her stay there, where he knew she would be safe, (Y/n)’s mind swirled with thoughts, what could be waiting for her at her apartment? Would she even make it back to her apartment? As much as she wanted to leave, she didn’t want to die, she preferred living.

“I uh…” (Y/n) begins, only to stop and clear her throat, Max was right, he’s never hurt her before, why would he now? She needed to think about her safety for a second, so when the words left her mouth, Max couldn’t believe it. “Can I uh, stay here?” Her voice barely above a whisper, she was still scared of the man standing a few feet away from her, but he might just be her safest option, the safest option. “Just until you’ve caught this Butler person.”

“Yes, of course,” Max says. “I’d rather have you stay here, knowing that you’re safe rather than let you stay on your own.” A glint of hope in his eyes, perhaps if they could spend some more time together she might see that he is still the same person before she knew the truth. “I’ll have Russell prepare the guest bedroom for you.”

#imagine #imagines #mafia imagine #mafia imagines #fanfic #fanfics #fan fic #fan fics #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfictions #fan fictions #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #Mafia!Max Verstappen

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sandu-zidian · 3 years

Text

Blabbing about this Musician!au I started last summer that has now also turned into a marching band!au because I got sad and nostalgic because despite how shitty it could be, marching band defined my high school life and social life and I couldn’t had asked for anything else.

I also don’t have every single prequel character (because this au is surrounding the prequel characters) in Star Wars smacked into here, and I gave up halfway through a couple of months ago in terms of brainstorming. Anyways, this is hella long so check everything out under the line if you’d like! don’t want to spam everyone with something that’s like, 4 pages long

Now, you might be asking. What instruments are these characters playing, or what are they doing in marching band? well, boy oh boy do I have some lore for you.

Anakin Skywalker: alright lets start of with the “Chosen One”. Now, I gotta say. He’s got some intense brass vibes, specifically high brass. But I don’t know. He didn’t really mesh well. And given his natural talent with the Force in canon, I thought that Anakin would be a sort of prodigy. And we all know the two instruments associated with that: the piano and violin. He’s more of a piano dude, so here we go! piano prodigy Anakin Skywalker. He also gives mad drumline vibes, and I can see him as either the lead snare, setting the tempo, or the main quad player. He’s brash, slightly obnoxious, but damn is he fucking good at what he does.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I literally started this AU on the idea that Obi-Wan would play the cello. One of the defining quotes for him is that fucking “infinite sadness” quote. And we all know that cellos play some of the saddest pieces out there. (see: Elgar cello concerto) However, I can’t see him as a marching band dude. He doesn’t really give off color guard vibes (since that’s where most non-band people go to) so I have him as the resident student helper who everyone tolerates because he brings ice cream after band camp.

Ahsoka Tano: Ahsoka is a flute player. As a flute player, I have intimate knowledge on this. She’s like the chill flute player who’s competitive enough to keep her position as principal, but is also chill enough to not have a big ego that butts heads with everyone. She also gives mad color guard vibes. Also speaking about that from personal experience (am I lowkey projecting my own experiences on her? you didn’t hear that from me). She seems like the type to love swing flags and sabre, and is 100% captain by senior year.

I have Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka as siblings in this AU because I say so. Qui-Gon is around here somewhere as the resident hippie dad who lowkey smokes pot and will support his children while giving a big ‘fuck you’ to Dooku.

Yoda’s also in here somewhere, and I love the idea that he’s an old Chinese/Asian man who refuses to speak english and will only do so with the most backwards grammar so his grandchild (Qui-Gon) and great-grandchildren (the trio) are forced to speak Mandarin/Cantonese to him (pick your poison). He just spends his days cutting up fruit and also might pull out his erhu if everyone asks nice enough. (I want to say he was a Peking Opera musician, but immigrated during Mao’s reign after he lost opportunities during the cultural revolution)

So, I know that it doesn’t make sense for a family to have 3 sets of twins and one triplet set, but fuck that I do what I want.

Cody Fett: okay so, Cody 100% plays the french horn. I don’t know, he just, he does. He’s got that air of sophistication because he can play the hardest brass instrument, but at the same time, he’s incredibly good at it and is matter-of-fact about it. He also would be the mello section leader (I was playing with the idea of drum major, but for now, leaving him as a section leader for now). He’s a bit uptight to be a low brass player, but cool enough to still be associated with the general brass group.

Rex Fett: I got Rex and Cody as the eldest Fett twins. Rex feels like a string player, so I have him on violin. I can see him be very hardworking and practicing diligently to the point where he easily sweeps through to concertmaster in high school and the local youth orchestra. He also gives of mad drum major vibes. I can see him copying music, handing out drill charts, and hauling the met around. Also, just think about Rex doing a fancy ass salute at competitions. Yes.

Next round of twins lets gooo

Jesse Fett: You could say Jesse has brass vibes. I see him as a reed person though. In concert band, he’s on clarinet. I used to think clarinets were as stuck up as us flutes but no they’re literally balls of chaotic energy ready to be unleashed. Just imagine Jesse blaming everything on his reed. I see him as the guy who switches to saxophone for marching band, though. He’s got the energy of the clarinet and the saxophone harnessed. Also, wouldn’t be surprised if he knows how to play the sousa.

Kix Fett: Y’know, when I originally made this AU, I had Kix as a musician as well. I’m gonna scratch that. He’s going to medical school, or at least, he’s planning to. He’s on the pre-med track and is dying in organic chemistry and wishes there weren’t so many pre-requisites. However, in high school, he definitely played the oboe. Of course Kix chose one of the hardest instruments to play. Also, just imagine him trying to make his own reeds. I don’t see him as a guy who’s in marching band. He’ll come to competitions and maybe football games if he’s bullied into it. Kix is the guy who’s classes are all AP and he’s dying inside.

Next round of twins yeet:

Fives Fett: shit, I forgot I gave them all real names. If I remember correctly, Fives is Frank. Anyways, trumpet vibes. Need I say more? He’s on the trumpet in marching band as well and he’s the dude who’s obsessed with DCI and always tries to play as high as he possibly can and absolutely demolishes his chops. I would say he’s section leader as well. He also hangs with the drumline at the back of the bus and always plays meme songs on blast and sends weird pictures to people’s phone via open airdrop.

Echo Fett: I think his birth name is Ethan??? I’m spitting thoughts not checking my old documents. Anyways. Echo feels like a string person. Specifically, low strings. So, he plays the bass. Upright bass. Whatever. You get what I mean. He sleeps in the case after school and hates hauling it everywhere. He was in marching band as a mello player (the easiest brass instrument to pick up for the activity so) but he was in a car crash that left him paralyzed from the hip down, and had to quit to recover. He never stopped playing, and found ways to adjust. (I do not know how exactly this would work, since I’m able bodied and also don’t play the bass, but I know he’d at least have a stool to sit on in order to lean his body on. let me know if you have other ideas i’d love to hear them!)

Finally, we got the triplets:

Dogma Fett: Dogma plays the bassoon. He’s a low reed kinda guy and between the bari sax, bass clarinet, and bassoon, he fits the last one the best. He and Kix moan over making reeds and he’s on the quieter side. He just vibes and plays all the low notes and has fun whenever he’s got some moving part. I see Dogma as someone who is only casually into marching band. He uses Jesse’s old student clarinet as his instrument and he’s always on time, knows his sets, and his technique is on point. He always finds himself roped into his brothers’ shenanigans though.

Tup Fett: Tup plays the harp. I like to think he met Shaak Ti (we’ll get to her in a bit) when he was young, and she was playing with an orchestra. He met her backstage and she offered to give him lessons. Tup’s not really a part of high school orchestra but sometimes he’ll be brought in. He’s more involved with solo work and the youth orchestra more than anything. Tup’s another on where I don’t think he’d be into marching band. Though I can see him being in winter guard as the dude who just shows up and is lowkey rip and therefore is a hunk on the rifle. His technique’s good but they’ve never been able to saddle him into fall guard.

Hardcase Fett: (i’ve given up on remembering the birth names so i’m just gonna not) Hardcase is 100% low brass vibes. He can’t be anything but a low brass. I see him as a tuba player. He’s chill, laid back, but also reliable for being the foundation of the band sound. He plays the sousaphone in marching band and always blasts either Seven Nation Army or some other popular show tune right after rehearsals. Hardcase also can play the bari sax and no one knows when he learned how to.

OKAY we’re done with the Fett’s! Jango and Boba are in here somewhere but honestly I don’t have enough brainpower to come up with what their roles are. Jango’s gonna be a good dad though. Maybe he was a musician and that’s why most of his kids are going into music. Or maybe he’s just a supportive father. Boba’s the youngest though, that’s for sure. And he’s a little shit. Don’t know if he plays an instrument (probably) or what it might be.

Now lets get into some other characters! There’s a lot. And I wasn’t even halfway done with the characters I wanted to include. What the hell was I on last summer?

Padmé Amidala: Padmé is a flute player who quit after freshman year of high school and started taking music production and music theory classes. She loved it so much that she decided that composing was her jam. Now, she’s highly successful and often works with well known pianist, Anakin Skywalker, on piano concertos. Also, she may or may not be dating said pianists but you didn’t hear that from me.

Satine Kryze: twosetters don’t shit on me but Satine feels like she’d play the viola. She and Obi-Obi-Wan definitely dated in high school but after a year broke up on mutual terms and are just good friends now. A lot of people feel like she’d have been a better political science/international studies major than a music major but she’s good so no one complains (until she gets into a fighting match with someone and wins smugly)

Bo-Katan Kryze: shes Satine’s younger sister and is a mad athlete. She doesn’t play any instruments but she’s deeply active and is on scholarship for college, on the pre-med track with Kix. She’s very scary and most people are too intimidated by her to approach.

Plo Koon: I originally had him as an asian man, but I can see Native American as well. He plays the euphonium and he’s just a sweet man. He helps out a lot with private lessons at local high schools and is often brought in to help with low brass during marching band.

Wolffe Koon: Wolffe and Gregor (get to him in a bit) were both adopted by Plo when their parents died when they were very young. Plo was their godfather and he took them in like they were his own. They’re cousins to the Fett brothers (though don’t ask me how I have no idea). Wolffe is an engineer and works close to home.

Gregor Koon: Gregor is Wolffe’s younger brother and had a short stint of musical interest in middle school but quit after he entered high school. Gregor was in a serious car crash during college that left him amnesiac for a year before some of his memories returned. He now owns a restaurant and sticks close to home. Wolffe often comes around to check up on him because his brain injury still impacts his current life in small physical and emotional dips

Kit Fisto: Kit gives off mad trombone vibes and it’s mostly because he seems incredibly laid back. He’s one of those brass players who’s just a nice guy and while jokes around, never got pulled into jokes as a student.

Shaak Ti: like I said above, Shaak Ti is most definitely a harpist. She has that ethereal quality I think is common in harpists. She’s a tall Indian woman and she loves her job! She’s a private lesson teacher and instructor at the conservatory on top of her job in the orchestra since she’s not called in often to play. She loves all her students and gives good hugs.

Mace Windu: Mace is the director of the Jedi Symphony, the orchestra which almost everyone is involved with. He is a bass player and he likes his more classical pieces over contemporary music. He’s good friends with Yoda and sometimes the old troll has to wack some sense into Windu and have him take on newer pieces. Windu 100% gives off unhinged director vibes because mistakes and lazy musicians definitely don’t end after high school/college is over.

Quinlan Vos: this lil shithead definitely is the obnoxious, slightly arrogant, but kind of deserving of that, percussionist. He loves his snare drum and is also in the drumline. He’s the same age as Obi-Wan and the two are close friends. Quinlan is definitely slightly unhinged and is always at the back of the bus causing havoc after competitions. He’s the guy that I (OP) hate but also can’t help but respect cuz yeah he’s annoying but at least he’s good.

Aayla Secura: Aayla is Quinn’s half-sister, and plays the French horn. Again, like Cody, she’s got this air of professionalism that I associate with French horn players and like, we gotta represent the girls in brass somehow. She just fits it really nicely.

I feel like now is the time to list who’s still in conservatory and who isn’t: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, Cody, Jesse, Quinlan, Padmé, and Satine are all recent graduates. Ahsoka, Aayla, Fives, Echo, Tup, Dogma, and Hardcase are still in conservatory (at varying years of course). Kix and Bo are entering med school/frantically applying and banging their heads cuz MCATs. Wolffe and Gregor are older and have been in the field for quite some time now. Plo, Kit, Shaak, and Mace are all faculty/seasoned professionals.

Somehow, I was gonna bring in The Skiratas (with proper research cuz I know very little about them), Dooku, Ventress, the Oppress siblings, rest of Domino Squad, Cut Lawquene, the other CCs, and more. I designated a page out of my sketchbook for this and my oh my the flow chart was hella confusing. How I thought I was gonna handle that in the summer before my first year of college, I have no idea. Maybe I’ll brainstorm more in the future but for now, this is all I have :]]]

Also excuse some of my slightly unhinged language I started writing this a few days ago while slightly unfocused and tired and stressed so my language is a product of that

#star wars #meta #musician au #my thoughts #I miss marching band so fucking much #I miss DCI #and WGI #miss the community #even if it was pretty stressful at times cuz drama #people love their drama in band #I don’t blame them you get sick of people after band camp #star wars au

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karasuno-chaos · 4 years

Text

Crossword Puzzles with Akaashi, Oikawa, and Suga

Just an idea I had with some of the boys. I’m not very good at crosswords but insist on trying to do them anyways hoping someday I’ll be better at them. As always, likes/reblogs are appreciated! -Giz

Akaashi

Let’s be real, Mister Future Manga Editor is good at this.

He’s almost infuriatingly good.

You’re sitting at the table having a leisurely breakfast. Akaashi’s reading the newspaper, and you’re working away at a crossword.

You haven’t written anything in a while, fiddling with your pencil, frowning.

Akaashi takes a sip of his coffee, looking at you over the rim of his cup.

“Do you need help?”

“No,” you grumble. “It’ll come to me in a second.”

“Okay.” You hate how he’s smiling a little, knowing that you’ll ask for his help in a minute anyways.

You’re determined not to give him the satisfaction this time.

You last another ten minutes, running through all of the clues again and getting nowhere.

“Okay, I could use some help.”

Even though he expected this, Akaashi doesn’t tease you about it. He just puts aside the newspaper and waits for you to feed him a clue.

He makes it collaborative! He doesn’t just tell you the answers but helps you figure it out yourself by offering suggestions or easier clues.

You scoot your chair closer to him so you can both look over the puzzle together. (It’s also an excuse to steal sips of his coffee because you’ve already finished yours.)

If you’re really stuck he’ll tell you the answers so you don’t get more frustrated.

“Akaashi, how the heck do you know the name of this obscure species of octopus?”

“It was in a book I read once.”

“What sort of books are you reading?”

“Interesting ones.”

Even though you needed his help with half of the crossword, you still feel accomplished when it’s done.

“So same time next week?” he asks.

“No way. Next time, I’m doing it all myself!”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

Oikawa

If you’re stuck, this boy is going to be no help whatsoever.

You’re curled up on the couch working on a crossword, and he’s sprawled in an armchair with his legs over the armrest scrolling through his phone.

You’ve made a decent amount of progress on your puzzle, but no matter how you think about the remaining clues, you can’t come up with any more answers.

“Hey Tooru, do you know any French?”

“No, I don’t know any French.”

“Bummer.”

“Just look it up.”

“No way! That’s cheating.”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

“No.”

“I will.”

“I told you, it’s still cheating.”

“Whatever.”

He goes back to scrolling through his phone, and you go back to trying to remember things you probably never learned.

“What’s the name of that place in Greece where those old philosophers used to hang out?”

He gives you a perturbed look.

“What makes you think I know that?”

“You’ve finished high school. You learned about it at some point, right?”

“So did you.”

“I can’t remember right now.”

“Then look it up.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re no help to me.”

“I’ve told you before, Y/N, I hate crosswords.”

Eventually you either let him look up the answers (you refuse to do it yourself because you are not a cheater!) or you call Iwaizumi, who is a much better help than your boyfriend.

Suga

You know who’s remarkably good at crosswords? Suga.

All of those pre-bed study sessions have given him a wealth of knowledge. Even after he graduates, he spends an hour or so before sleep reading interesting articles about whatever strikes his fancy.

He also has a bit of a competitive streak. Luckily you’re up to the challenge.

Every time you get a new crossword, he makes a photocopy for himself. Then you take up positions across from each other at the table.

“Ready?” he asks with a grin.

“You bet!”

You race to see who can complete their crossword first.

More often than not, he wins, but you’ve had your share of victories.

Whoever finishes first just sits back and watches the other work with a smug smile.

“Need help yet?”

“No.”

On particularly difficult puzzles, you’ll help one another.

“I’m stumped.”

“Come over here so we can compare notes.”

Suga scoots his chair next to yours, and you look over each other’s puzzles to fill in missing clues.

“Oh ‘archetype’, of course!”

“Honestly, Y/N, I’m surprised you didn’t get that one.”

“I was too focused on spelling ‘grammar’ correctly.”

“Did I spell-? Oh, I did. Good catch.”

He might be good at solving the clues, but his spelling could use some work. You have to spend a few minutes looking over his work and correcting him.

Between the two of you, you manage to finish the puzzle.

“And that’s another victory for me!” Suga grins, stretching in his chair.

“Koushi, you didn’t finish the puzzle until you asked for my help.”

“I had more done than you did.”

“You also spelled a third of the answers wrong.”

“Alright then, because I’m so nice, I’ll say we tied. But next time I’ll win.”

“We’ll see about that.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #suga #sugawara #sugawara koushi #suga x reader #sugawara x reader #reader insert

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swaglexander-the-great · 4 years

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If you feel like it : develop on your hatred of the new Beauty and the Beast movie? I've heard a lot of salt about the way the music score was handled 👀

O MAN DO NOT DO THIS

Every time I think about this film, rage fills me like a super saiyan powering up and i scream

How do i even start

i think i will do bullet points

these will not be in any coherent order, I take no criticisms on this or my extreme bias

also i have not watched this movie for like years so my rage may outweigh my accuracy BUT

The opening?? With Cate blanchett narrating?? Who do u think u are?? Lord of the Rings? Peter Jackson in an epic trilogy changing the world forever?? You’re Disney eating your own meal and shitting it out again don’t fucking even try it

They didn’t even change anything and the animated intro was much shorter and better

The enchantress enters like Malificent, acts like a trickster god japing bitches, but try to paint her as Good uwu Princess.

Gaston, roughly the size of an ox if the ox was a slightly buff man who would bounce off Terry Crew’s majestic chest like a ping pong ball

You don’t have to be a crusty cynical adult to narrow ur eyes at that twunk picking up a solid 170kg of two people and think CGI

Yes, a queer-coded snivelling sidekick who adores a horrible man is exactly the gay representation we all wanted may I lick ur boots Disney and also suck ur dick but only if we say no homo

Gaston’s sidekick (don’t ask me to spell french) bribing the bar people to like Gaston or something??? The whole point?? Is that Gaston DOES check off the list for Desirable Bachelor in those times!! Can hunt? Yes. Lorge? Yes. Well off? Yup! An asshole? Of course, but does that matter in these times? No! Your privilege is to wash his socks! But Belle is a Different and Special Girl who DOESN’T find Gaston attractive for all the things the village thots do! Gaston is the outer ‘perfection’ that society praises while he’s still a cunt, the Beast is seeing the goodness within no matter what society says! The whole movie is fucking inverted by that one goddamn scene!! I hate this film!!!

this also makes it fuckin weird that they then discriminate against Maurice and side with gaston in the end? The villagers just do whatever the fuck the writer wants them to do and in this it’s so painfully obvious, the CEO of disney may as well be standing there with flags directing their movements in the background, I hate this fucking film

Instead of making cool inventions belles dad just makes like, a weird dolls house if I remember correctly

THEY DUBBED THE WOLVES IWTH TIGER NOISES! W H Y

The Be My Guest was so lacklustre. It was like a clown singing kareoke in an empty warehouse while frisbees fly around. You wasted Ewan McGregor on this. Disney has no imagination anymore

To add to that, the ending ballroom scene dance thing?? Lacklustre. Disappoint. Bad dress.

The best character in this film is the horse, who not only remembers the impossible way to the Beast castle, but runs at max speed between the two locations (a half-day journey), regularly with ease, carries the Beast, who IS roughly the size of an ox, and fights off fucking wolves who also seem to totally ignore his presence

Disney robbed me of the one scene I did desperately want, which was Belle deadlifting the Beast on to the main character, the horse

THE PLAGUE

ok the fucking plague ok. You do not mess with the goddamn plague. And this wasn’t cowpox either, this was the full 1500’s shithole Paris Black Death burn-you-alive fucking PLAGUE. Belle’s mom had the Plague, and both her and her dad somehow did not contract this while living with her through her entire sickness, they go to a different town (ISOLATE U HEATHENS) and then?? The Beast and Belle GO BACK to a plague house and run their hands all over shit! Do you know how long the plague takes to die off?? Even TODAY when we dig up a plague pit, everyone has to get immunized, I know this from EXPERIENCE. Congratulations, you and the Beast either have plague or have introduced it to your lovely village. Do not fuck lightly with the plague.

The magic fucking teleportation book.

Why

what the shit

WHY

They use this shit to instantly Star Trek beam themselves into a plague house

I assume the Beast wasn’t using this to heist random women to see if they would fall in love with him because, like, why would you not do this when you can just politely return them with your stupid magical teleport book

People attack the castle? Use the magical teleport book dumbass

The Beast’s unnecessary, long, boring song from the top of some fucking tower, idk, I skipped it, I got bored

The Beast design. What’s the point if he doesn’t look like feral garbage please. Also his voice pissed me off but I can’t remember why

I dont like him even personality wise

give him to Guillemo del toro you cowards

This was set in Actual History for some fucking stupid reason, and for another unfathomable reason, it was set directly before the French Revolution, so I guess it’s not a happy ending at all. Who wants to be transformed into a guillotine ?

Why is it so fucking dark half the time

The teapot is creepy

Why in the shit did we get the Prince’s fuckin weird tragic backstory? We don’t care. Man get turned beast is what we come for. And why? Why do we need a tragic backstory to excuse his actions? Can he not just be an asshole? Rich, stupid asshole? Who then maybe has to learn a lesson? Instead of oh tortured soul rich boy is so misunderstood! No. Die.

Disney’s absolute desperate need to have characters be ONLY GOOD or BAD BAD makes me want to knee the face of the collective corporation so hard that they are sent into the Hell Dimension

Where did the hot priest at the start go? Why do I think of him sometimes

They want this to be painfully French, but somehow ends up and an even more agonizing blend between painfully British and ass-kissingly american.

Why does the castle just fall apart like that. What is holding it together? Spirit gum? Why? Stone that looks like it has been soldered together with a welding iron doesn’t just give out, or The Earth would have caved in millenia ago

Ian McKellan uses his Gandalf voice and in this film it’s honestly a crime and also jarring to hell

The prince is not hot at all

The stupid dubbed growl at the end which I try so hard to repress makes me want to throw myself into a swimming pool full of mace

The only 1 good thing about this film was the dude who got dressed up by the dresser and was so fucking happy about it.

People complain about the soundtrack, but I for one refused to listen to the songs that bored me within the first 20 seconds, and the ones I listened to were like average remakes of the OGs so that wasn’t really the worst sin

This film so visibly sucked its own dick that this is probably why it was banned in china

Thinking about this film makes me want to commit Violence so I think it’s about time I stopped

I will not be taking constructive criticism or counterpoints to anything about my thoughts on this ever.

Goodbye and thank you for your curiosity

#beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast 2017 #disney #emma watson #disney remakes #I want to beat this film to death #asks #my asks #awesome people #writing #film reviews

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anactualcaseofthetruth · 4 years

Photo

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too, Chapter 2 > Archive Of Our Own Link

Catch Up - Chapter 1 > Archive Of Our Own Link

Summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

NOTE: trigger warning to abuse - the whole scene is in italics if you don’t want to/can’t read it

“Since when you got a kid, Bish?” Coco asks with cigarette smoke leaking from his nose.

Bishop turns to Mia and makes a show of looking her up and down. “Twenty-some odd years or so now.”

“Very funny,” Coco mutters to himself as he steps on the butt of his cigarette.

“You have something to say now that we know this young lady’s relationship to Bishop?” Taza questions while looking down at Coco expectantly.

“Sorry for the shit I said, how I acted. Didn’t know who you were, you know,” he offers half-heartedly.

“I wasn’t being very forthcoming either, but I wanted to surprise him,” Mia replies along with a hip check to her godfather.

Angel chortles in front of her, and she fixes her gaze on him as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He meets her eyes but says nothing as the white smoke oozes from his mouth and nose.

“Now that we’re all acquainted and in good standing, I think some of us need to get to work,” Taza says with a pointed look at the two younger Mayans.

“God forbid the scrap piles up,” Angel murmurs before brushing past her and towards the scrap yard.

Coco follows, but Taza lingers with the two of them. “You two take some time, we can handle a couple hours without our fearless leader,” the VP offers.

Bishop nods. “Mia, you mind giving us a minute?” he asks in a voice that is almost too polite.

Mia looks around expectantly. “Uh…”

“Clubhouse is open,” Bishop says with a cock of his head. “No one’s in there, help yourself behind the bar.”

Mia lets out a breath of laughter. “Sure,” she agrees and walks up the few stairs to the clubhouse, but doesn’t help herself behind the bar, although it would help with the headache.

It’s exactly what she expects it to be, the clubhouse. There’s a bar, a pool table, various other tables and chairs, Mayan memorabilia adorns the walls, along with posters of scantily clad women. There’s a tattoo chair in one corner, a stripper pole in another, and a stained-glass door Mia knows leads to where they hold Templo.

She’s only alone for a minute or two before Bishop comes in behind her. “Sorry, club shit,” he apologizes as he goes behind the bar himself. He reaches for a beer, then seems to rethink it and puts it back. “Do you… breakfast, maybe?”

Mia shakes her head. “Maybe we should talk first, it has been a while.”

Bishop leans on the bar, his hands folded together. “More than a year since we spoke at least. Almost two since I’ve actually seen you, despite the fact that I’ve been up to Oakland three times to do just that, but since I didn’t know where you lived—”

“I know, I’m an asshole, I’m sorry,” Mia interrupts.

“I call every year on every major holiday, on your birthday, on the anniversary of—”

“I know!” she exclaims. “I know, okay?”

“Come to find that fourteen months ago your number changes, your cell phone account gone completely. You’re not listed anywhere, Esai hadn’t heard from you, you refused to tell me the name of that boyfriend you practically fucking worshipped. The boyfriend, who, if I recall correctly, lead to all this shit happening,” Bishop continues anyways.

“Do not blame this all on me!” Mia surprises herself by screaming. “Yes, I’m the asshole that didn’t call, didn’t reach out, but you made a choice and I—”

“Oh, no, we’re not going there,” Bishop states as he pounds a fist on the bar.

Mia jumps and silently berates herself for it. “You choose her, Bop, you choose her over and over again, every time,” she insists. “And I got fucking sick of it.”

“She’s your mother,” Bishop says quietly.

“Since fucking when?” she asks. “The moment that my,” she stops to clear her throat, “when he died she stopped being my mother and you know it.”

“She tried.”

Mia shakes her head. “I don’t know why I even came here. I should have known it would turn into this. Yes, I made mistakes. Yes, I am wrong for cutting you out, and believe me when I say I hate myself for it, but here we are, once again, and instead of trying to work things out with me you’re still choosing her.”

“She’s your mother, Mia, I’m not choosing—”

“You were my mother!” Mia cuts him off, and he looks up at her in surprise. “You,” she confirms as she steps towards the bar. “You said my prayers with me, you read me books until I fell asleep, you signed me up for dance classes, came to every recital. Jesus Christ, Bop, you had one of the old lady’s teach your how to help with my hair when I started kickboxing and needed it French braided every day.”

Her godfather nods but says nothing in return this time.

“Bop, you were my mother and my father, still are, and I came here because I,” she stops and blinks away tears. “I really do hate myself for cutting you out, please believe that.”

He’s out from behind the bar and she’s in his arms not even a moment later. “Sh, don’t say shit like that, pequeña,” he whispers in her ear.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeats into his kutte.

“I’m sorry too,” he murmurs against the crown of her head before kissing it. “I shouldn’t have let this shit go on for so long.”

Mia pulls away shaking her head. “How could you have patched it up? You couldn’t find me.”

“I guess I taught you a little too well, huh?” he tries to joke, and Mia laughs to make him feel better.

She wishes she could tell him it was all her idea. Wishes she simply got a new phone plan in an effort to hide from him, moved so he couldn’t find her, stopped working so she wouldn’t have a paper trail for him to follow.

But none of it is true.

“I am sorry, Bop,” she insists while wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks.

“C’mon,” he leads her over to a table and pulls out a chair for her. “You didn’t come all this way to apologize, did you? My number hasn’t changed, you could have called, we could have arranged something.”

“No, I did need to come all this way to say sorry. You deserve a face-to-face apology. Respect goes a long way, you taught me that too,” she corrects him.

“We both said shit that day, from what I remember. I’m sorry too. I do…” he trails off and sighs. “I do make your mom a priority, sometimes it might feel like more than I do you, but it’s not true. I know you can take care of yourself, I raised you to be able to. Your mom…” he sighs again, “is a heroin addict and I enable her too much, I know that.”

Mia wants to cry all over again. Because she hasn’t been taking care of herself. Because she hasn’t been acting like the woman he raised. Because if he knew what Jay did to her, what she let him do, he wouldn’t think she could take care of herself so well. He’d be ashamed.

“It’s okay,” she manages.

“No, it’s not. You’re my top priority, always have been and will be. You know that, right?” he asks and for the second time in as many days Mia feels like her heart is lodged in her throat.

Not trusting her voice, Mia simply nods.

Bishop reaches forwards and takes her hands in his. “What’s going on, mija?” he asks in a soft voice. “I am so happy to see you, but you’re here for more than this. I’ve lived here for over five years and you’ve never showed interest in coming down.”

“I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, but me and the boyfriend are no longer a thing,” she confesses. “Just wasn’t working out.”

“He kicked you out?”

Mia almost laughs. “No, I left him, actually. He went on a trip with some friends and I decided to take a permanent one of my own.”

Bishop sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “You think he’ll come looking? Should I talk to one—”

“No,” she stops him, lying through her teeth. “At least, I don’t think so. I tried to keep him in the dark about the club and Mom, all of it. He wasn’t very interested in my past, more of a look to the future type of guy. He always had plans and ideas and cared a lot about what people thought,” she goes on. “I felt stifled, I guess. I thought I wanted normal, I thought being with someone exactly the opposite of what I grew up with was what I needed. I had just started dating him when Mom OD’ed, again, and you jumped in to save her, again, and I was so angry. I was so angry I wanted away from Oakland, from the MC, all of it.”

“I don’t blame you,” her godfather tells her. “You haven’t had it the easiest, I didn’t shield you from as much as I should have.”

“No, don’t. All the good memories I have from my childhood come from you. It was hard sometimes, but I was loved and I had everything I needed to get through,” she assures him. “It took me almost two years, but I’ve realized I can’t forget who I am or where I came from, and I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad,” Bishop admits and gives her a smile.

“Normal is very overrated, I found out,” she tries to joke. “Boring Christmas parties, stuffy work functions, Sunday brunch at the club. It’s all very pastel and white with fake noses and bad dye jobs.”

“Sounds like scary shit to me, baby,” he insists. “I think I’d rather wear black and drink some beers with my brothers.”

Mia forces a smile. “It was nice in the beginning, I guess. All the restaurants and fancy galas, getting to dress up for more than a funeral or a court date, nice cars and all that, but,” she shakes her head as she thinks about it, “it was all a lie. That’s not who I am, and it took me too long to realize that’s not who I want to be either.”

“We all go through shit, Mia,” Bishop reminds her. “You didn’t choose this life, you were born into it, raised in it. It makes sense you wanted a taste of another life. I’m just glad you decided the old one was worth hanging on to.”

“It is,” she promises him quietly. “It’s a memory of you that make me realize I was in over my head, was living a life I wasn’t meant for and being someone I wasn’t.”

“A good one, I hope.”

“I was, uh,” Mia starts while staring at nicks in the table. “I was going through some shit from when I was a kid, pictures and stuff,” she partially lies. “And I found that one of me on my first bike the day you got it for me, do you remember?”

Bishop chuckles and nods. “It took me an hour to get you on it, then three hours to get you off at the end of the day.”

“I remember crying when I realized there were no training wheels and thought that meant I couldn’t ride it,” Mia says with small smile. “But you said I didn’t need training wheels, that I was a big girl, and by the time you were done with me I’d be riding like a pro.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” he asks with a proud smile already on his face.

Mia nods. “You usually are. Do you remember what you said the first time I fell?”

Bishop grins at the memory. “We were screaming at each other in the middle of the park. You were six, had pig tails, your arms crossed, and steam coming out of your ears. I really thought I was going to lose the fight there for a minute.”

“You let me fall! I felt betrayed,” Mia defends herself. “But do you remember what you said?”

Bishop lets out a long breath. “I told you life was going to knock you down over and over again, but you had to get up and keep going because that’s how you grow and move on.”

“I think you added something in there about proving all the fuckers who tried to keep me down wrong too,” she teases.

“Yep, I did,” Bishop recalls in a laugh.

“And then you told me,” Mia goes on, “that when I felt like I’d been knocked down one too many times and I couldn’t get back up all I had to do was turn around,” she says as tears fill her eyes again. “All I had to do was turn around because you’d be there to help me up and remind me how strong I was. Do you remember that?”

Bishop simply nods and squeezes her hands.

“I realized I got knocked down a while ago, and I needed help getting back up,” she tells him. “I’m sorry if it’s a bad time or if I messed up anything for you and the club—”

“Stop,” he orders, his tone firm. “You will never be a problem, you understand me? Never.” He brushes a tear off her cheek. “And I’m here, always, just tell me what you need.”

“I think I just,” she stops to sniffle, “I think I just need my dad to pick me up and tell me everything will be okay, and maybe a place to stay for a while. I don’t have much money or,” she’s cut off by Bishop’s arms wrapping around her.

“Don’t worry about any of that,” he tells her.

“I realized I wasn’t being the woman you raised me to be. I was trying to be someone else because I was so angry, and I don’t want to be angry anymore.”

Bishop holds her tighter. “Everything is going to be fine. I’ve got you now.”

Mia just lets herself be held by him like she did that day at the park when she fell again and again, hoping that when he lets her go she’ll be ready to stand up again.

~3 weeks ago~

Mia doesn’t even attempt to get up from where he left her on the floor, and instead curls into a ball. Ignoring the little pieces of glass piercing her skin, not caring about the blood threatening to seep into her eyes, and struggling for each breath, she just waits.

It’s less than ten minutes when she hears glass crunch underneath his shoes and smoke fills the air. The smell makes the tension she’s holding in her shoulders alleviate the smallest bit. Smoking usually means he’s done, that the battle is over.

“What am I going to do with you?” comes from above her. His voice is hoarse now, as it usually is after he’s spent hours yelling.

A hand slips into her hair and Mia can’t help but shrink away from his touch, but that doesn’t stop him or seem to bother him.

“Hm? Any ideas?” he asks with his hand still caressing her hairline.

When she still doesn’t answer he blows the skunk smoke in her face causing her to cough. She wants to tell him that his dealer sucks, his weed is weak, but stays quiet. It’s safer that way.

“Maybe I should get you pregnant again, huh?” he wonders aloud, his free hand now cupping her stomach, and at this she physically recoils. Jay pulls on her hair, hard, to tug her back in place. She winces at the little pieces of glass that are now embedded in her flesh. “But I can’t trust you with that, can I? Since you killed the last one.”

“It wasn’t a baby,” she mutters and waits for the pain, but none comes. “It was cells—”

“It was my baby,” he corrects her as his grip tightens on her curls. “It wasn’t cells or yours to decide what to do with. It was mine. You hear me?”

Mia’s eyes fill with tears because he’s wrong, he’s so wrong. She was barely eight weeks and it could have been a baby, her baby, but she couldn’t let it become that. Not with this father, not this life, not if she could help it.

He stands, accepting her silence as both cowardice and surrender. “No, I think we have some growing and learning to do before you have my baby,” he sighs, disappointed she doesn’t already know her place. “If you think this is going to ruin my trip, you’re wrong,” he says with the joint hanging out of his mouth as he reaches into his pocket. He drops a credit card and wad of cash on her. “This shit better be cleaned up by the time I get home, you hear me? Like it never happened.”

Mia only nods and he walks away back towards the bedroom, probably for his luggage. He was finishing packing when she came home. Of course, he can’t miss the annual weekend golf trip with his frat bros. That would be a shame.

It isn’t until the door closes behind him that Mia breathes easily and lets more tears fall from her eyes.

How the fuck did he find out about the abortion?

She’s gotten most of the glass picked out of her arm when a photo in the mess she’s supposed to clean up catches her eye. All she can make out is the top of her own head and hair of the man who is on her thoughts more than she wants to admit.

Mia’s careful to walk on the small path already cleared with the broom in her barefeet as she approaches the broken curio cabinet and reaches for the picture hidden behind all the photos of Jay at his law school graduation.

Her lip quivers as she looks down at the man who raised her, his arms around her as she sits on a purple bike with teal tires and handlebars, her favorite colors at the time. She looks so happy, innocent, unbroken.

It’s probably the only picture of her past in the entire house. The rest are all lies—them smiling at business functions, family barbeques, his brother’s wedding. What they don’t show is him squeezing her leg tight under the table in warning for her not to mess up again, a hand digging so hard into her neck it leaves bruises, and a look in his eye that makes her scared to go home.

But the picture in her hand is real. It contains joy, love, and it all feels like a lifetime ago.

Mia stands now, the picture never leaving her hand, and she knows what she has to do, because she remembers who she once was.

~present~

“We should make a list of the shit you need,” Bishop calls from the clubhouse kitchen as he goes to refill both their plates with the scrambled eggs and bacon he made.

Apparently, she isn’t the only Mayan daughter around. Coco has a sixteen-year-old that is in and out of the clubhouse regularly, which means there is more than beer and chips stocked in the kitchen.

“I don’t want you to worry about that. I’ll get a job and get it on my own,” Mia says as he returns.

He sets the plate down in front of her and gives her a look she knows means he isn’t going to lose this one. “Mia, you’re my kid, let me take care of you. We can fight about you paying me back later.”

She tries not to laugh with a forkful of eggs in her mouth. “When you put it that way.”

“You need a phone, right?” he questions, to which she nods as she chews. “I’ll put a call in, get you added to my plan. You can head down and pick out whatever you want this afternoon. You can toss the prepaid one you got. Smart move, by the way,” he adds. “Don’t want the asshole following you because you kept the phone he was paying for.”

“You never even met him, Bop,” she reminds him, then bites her cheek. Why is she defending him? He is an asshole.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell he’s an asshole,” he responds and she keeps quiet this time. “I got a room for you at my place, but since you’re staying awhile we’ll get you moved in to this small house I rent out in a few weeks,” he goes on. “It’s a shithole right now, but I’ll put the prospect on it, maybe a few of the guys. We have a warehouse full of shit too, you can go and pick what you want, make the place yours.”

“I hate feeling like a burden,” Mia mumbles.

“You kidding? I’ve been asking you to move down here for years. I’ve got it all worked out up here, baby,” he says with a finger tap to his head. “SPG is always hiring, you’ll have a job there by the end of the week, no problem.”

“SPG?” she questions as she sips at her orange juice. Her headache is gone, finally.

“Santo Padre General,” he fills her in. “If you want, I can put a call in. I know someone, Gracie, she—”

“I really appreciate all you’re doing for me, Bop, but I can get a job on my own,” Mia cuts him off. “Especially as a nurse. I want them to know I can do the job because I’m good at it, not because my dad called someone.”

“Alright, alright,” he mutters before lighting up one of his cigars. He usually only smokes during celebrations and Templo, so she looks at him with her eyebrows raised. “What? I can’t be happy my little girl is here?”

Mia can’t help but smile at him. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

Bishop grins back at her with a pat to her knee.

She looks back at her eggs covered with hot sauce and lets out a shaky breath. This is what she has been working towards for almost three weeks. She’s here, with Bishop, and he knows just enough not to be suspicious. She’s with one of the few people she feels safe with, in a place where she doesn’t have to look over her shoulder all the time because she never told Jay about it. He never cared to know about her ‘ghetto past’ as he liked to call it.

“You alright, pequeña?” he asks, breaking her concentration on the eggs.

“Uh, yeah, I was just thinking,” Mia tells him. “I need one more thing.”

“Name it.”

“The plates on my car, they are kind of fake,” she says before putting more eggs in her mouth.

Bishop takes the cigar from his mouth. “Kind of?” he questions, to which she shrugs. “I’ll have it handled by end of day. That piece of shit Chevy on the curb is yours?”

“No,” Mia orders, seeing the wheels in his head turn. “I don’t need a new car. It’s just old, that’s all. I haven’t really driven it in two years. I was using one of his cars, and I couldn’t very well take it when I’m leaving him, now could I? But the plates were off it, so I had to get new ones to drive it here.”

It’s a lie. It had plates, but Jay knew what they were, and he’d use them to look for her. There are perks to growing up in the MC, she knows quite a few tricks.

“Fine,” he mutters, but she knows it will be one of those fights saved for later.

“I also need to open a bank account,” she adds on. “I closed mine out when I decided to come down here. Figured it’d be easier that way, I mean, there aren’t many of the usual franchises in town.”

“Good call,” Bishop comments. “You look exhausted, mija,” he says a moment later.

“Thank you, that’s just what every girl wants to hear from her father,” she tells him as she finishes off her plate.

“Let’s get you out of here. We’ll stop at the bank and the phone place on the way to my house, then you can sleep the rest of the day, or do whatever shit you want to do.”

“I would not say no to sleeping for the rest of the day,” Mia agrees.

“And I’ve been thinkin’,” he goes on as they stand, “maybe on Sunday we can have a get together here with everyone, so you meet ‘em all. You know Taza and Hank, but not any of my other guys. We can fire up the grill, tell stories of all the shit you put me through as a teen—”

“Hey! I was not that bad,” she insists. “I was never officially charged with anything, anyways,” she corrects herself and he laughs. It’s full and hearty and makes her feel better inside than she has in months.

“You up for it?” he checks as they exit the clubhouse and are once again out in the blinding sunlight. He hands her the sunglasses clipped to his kutte without a word.

She puts them on and beams up at him. “Definitely. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a real clubhouse party. Think any of the guys will want to get in the cage? I haven’t seen a good fight in even longer.”

“Haven’t been in one either, I bet?” he teases. “Use any of those kickboxing skills I paid for lately?”

Mia looks down at the sand underneath their feet. She doesn’t want to tell him she’s been in fights, not the kind he’s talking about, and that she didn’t fight back. In fact, she barely put up one most of the time. “Not in a while, no.”

“I got a bunch of your old gear if you want to get back into it,” he tells her. “There’s some here, some back at the house, but it’s all yours if you want it.”

“You’re such a packrat, Bop,” Mia teases as they stop at the row of bikes.

There is a whistle behind them and they both turn to see Angel walking over, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

“One sec,” Bishop says and meets him halfway.

Mia takes the moment to look at him. Angel, that is. She can’t believe she let that happen last night, hooking up with him in the bathroom. She smiles at the memory though.

How long had it been since she’d done something for herself? Besides the decision to come down here, that is? Too fucking long.

Maybe it was just what she needed—a good time and an even better fuck to remember what she’s fighting for, or rather show her the kinds of things she is missing. Of course, she doesn’t want or need a relationship, he likely doesn’t either, but some fun? She’s definitely down for that. After the hell she’s been through, she thinks she deserves some.

Mia hadn’t been joking or lying when she said he was her angel, because maybe he was. In that moment, he was exactly what she needed, and she doesn’t regret it for a second.

They only speak for a minute, then Bishop is heading towards the scrap yard and Angel is coming towards her. He looks good in his Romero Bros Scrap shirt. The sleeves are cut off and those veins she loves in his arms are popping in all the right places.

“Hey,” she greets while sliding the glasses up into her hair.

“Bish needs to talk to Taza, wants me to keep you company, introduce myself, you know,” he tells her and his voice is much harsher than yesterday. He pulls out his cigarettes and lights one.

“You think we should tell him we already got that out of the way last night?” she asks, and his mouth opens in shock, causing him to almost lose the stick hanging from his lips. “I’m kidding! Calm down, will you?”

“You knew exactly who I was, that I knew your ‘other Dad’,” he says with finger quotes and all. “And you fucking played me.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” she asks. “Which part are you mad about? That I didn’t tell you that you were fucking your president’s daughter or that I let you play up the big, bad biker thing when I already knew all about it? Just so I know for the sake of the argument.”

Angel takes a long drag of his cigarette, then shakes his head. “I’m just sayin’ you knew all the facts going in, I didn’t know shit, thought you were just passing through.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you usually ask all your fuck buddies for their whole history, want my mother’s maiden name too? How about my record, that seems more your style?”

“Let me guess,” Angel starts with a pointer finger on each side of his head for dramatic effect, “you’re on the run for attempting to assassinate a high-ranking government official.”

Mia can’t hold back the smile from forming on her lips and doesn’t want to. “Wow, tall, dark, and psychic, a real triple threat,” she teases.

“Sometimes I fuckin’ wish,” Angel says while flicking his ashes. “Doesn’t change the fact that you played me.”

“Oh, come on, that is so unfair,” Mia insists. “I didn’t play you, I played my part. We all got what we wanted, didn’t we? I even made it easier on you by leaving before you did and skipping the awkward parts.”

“Or,” he counters while taking a step closer, “you skipped what could have been round two. Ever think about that?”

Mia’s cheeks flush. “Well, I am now,” she mumbles. “But, admit it, you like it, don’t you?”

“Like what?”

“That you fucked your president’s daughter,” she answers easily, and he shakes his head, fighting the smirk that wants to form on his face. “You do, it’s okay to admit it. Makes you feel a little bit like a rebel, maybe. When you’re sitting with him at Templo you’ll be able to look him straight in the eye all while thinking about how you know the noises I make, what it feels like when you’re inside me. After all, I’m not blood, right? So, it can’t be that weird for you.”

“Does blood matter when I’m thinking about fucking you in his chair too?” he asks, and now it’s her turn for her mouth to drop open. “Angel Reyes, nice to meet you,” he offers at her silence with a hand out and all.

“Mia Flores,” she replies automatically as her hand slides into his. “Are you still mad at me?” she wonders once she gains her bearings again. “Because if it counts for anything fucking you had nothing to do with you being a Mayan.”

Angel barks out a laugh and drops the butt so he can step on it, then lowers his head closer to her ear. “And I’ll fuck you again knowing you’re my president’s daughter, if that counts for anything,” he tells her, then steps back while dropping her hand.

Mia smiles up at him, but notices Bishop making his way back. “I’ll keep that in mind, but you never answered my question.”

Angel shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe we’ll have to find out a way to make it right.”

“Maybe we will. It was nice to meet you, Angel,” she says once Bishop reaches them.

“You too, Mia,” he confirms with a wink before turning around and heading back to work.

“Everything okay?” Mia asks her godfather as he reaches for his helmet.

“Yeah, just catching Taza up. You wanna follow me?” he answers with his leg already swinging over his bike. “You probably don’t want to leave your car here.”

“Sure.”

As Mia makes her back to her car she can’t help but look back, hoping Angel is still visible. He isn’t, but she wishes she could get another look.

She doesn’t know what it is about Angel, but he makes her forget what she’s running from, all the shit she’s been through. He makes her feel like the old Mia, the one before Jay, before she lost herself in all the anger she still carries. She feels safe with him, and it’s surprising, but she also doesn’t want to question it.

She’s had so little to be happy about lately, why overthink one of the few things making her feel that way?

-:-

“So, we’re standing in the middle of the best accommodation’s Oakland PD has to offer, Mia in the jail cell, me on the other side, if you can believe it—” Bishop stops to laugh along with the others gathered around them, much to her chagrin. “And she’s insisting it wasn’t grand theft auto, more like, what did you call it again?”

Mia looks down at the empty beer in her hand and shakes her head. She was such a fearless, stupid kid. What happened? “Mediocre borrow auto, I think it was,” she admits, and more laughter erupts around them.

“Right, and we start screaming at each other, mostly in Spanish, and the fucker who arrested her is laughing at us…” he goes on.

Mia squeezes Bishop’s shoulder as he tells the story. “I’ll be right back, I need a refill,” she mentions, and he nods, but keeps the telling of her past indiscretions.

It’s the day of ‘her’ party, as Bishop calls it. Even though she had met most of the club on the day of her arrival (and the one after it), he wanted a celebration in her honor, so here they are. Multiple bonfires are lit, girls are in every direction, and there’s probably more beer than they can all drink in one night, but she doesn’t want to underestimate the charter. It’s too soon to tell.

She could have gotten a beer at one of the many ice buckets around, but wants away from the crowd, somewhere she can hear her thoughts without loud music or pretending to smile. While she’s happy to be in Santo Padre, it’s a very different environment than the one she’s been living in lately.

Everyone is loud and rambunctious, unashamed and proud, and it’s wonderful, but takes some getting used to. She still finds herself looking over her shoulder every few minutes, biting her tongue to stop herself from saying whatever comment comes to mind, and second-guessing every other move she makes.

Mia knows it will take time to feel at ease in her life again but she’s taking the right steps, at least she thinks so.

As she makes her way into the clubhouse, it’s not empty as hoped.

“Need something?” EZ asks as he stands from the barstool in a hurry.

“Sit, please,” she urges, and he looks hesitant, but listens. “I’m not in the club, you’re not my prospect, I don’t need to be waited on.”

EZ smiles and nods. “I just wanted a few minutes away from…everything.”

Mia goes behind the bar and grabs herself a new beer. “Away from being everyone’s bitch for five minutes?”

“Right in one,” he laughs and they clink their bottles together. “So, you happy to be here, living with your dad?”

“Happy to be here, yes. Happy to be living with Bop, still up in the air,” Mia answers and takes a swig as he chuckles. “Surprisingly, he’s a clean guy, at least in his own way. Everything has its place. He’s a creature of habit and I’m throwing him all off.”

“Why do you call him ‘Bop’ by the way?” he asks.

“Well, when I was little I couldn’t pronounce Bishop, so I settled for Bop and it stuck. He’s my dad in every way besides blood, but calling him that…” she trails off, “felt kind of wrong because my real dad would have been around if he hadn’t died, you know?”

“I get that,” EZ agrees with a nod.

“I was lucky to have him, probably would be dead without him, or worse, like my mother,” she sighs, then takes a long swig.

“Sounds like there is a story there, but I think I’ll keep my questions to myself,” EZ decides a moment later.

“You know, they told me you were smart,” she teases and they both laugh. “So, how are you adjusting to the life? Aside from loving your bitch duties.”

“I do love my bitch duties,” he agrees, and she laughs again. She likes these Reyes boys. “It’s nice to be part of something, to feel like I’m working towards something. Being able to get close to Angel is honestly the best part…it’s easy to take the small shit for granted until you don’t have it anymore. Let’s just say I’m not taking anything for granted ever again.”

“You guys weren’t close before?”

“When we were kids we were best friends, I guess all kids close in age are. We grew up, got interested in different things—girls, sports, friends, and he’s still my brother, of course, but I took it for granted, so did he, I think. You think you’re invincible when you’re young. You think nothing bad will ever happen. It’s okay to skip out on family dinner to be with your girl because there will always be another one. It’s alright to flake on your brother because he’s your brother and you know he’ll get over it eventually. We don’t do that shit anymore. If I make a promise, I keep it. If I tell Pop I’ll stop by and help close up, I do it. If I tell the club I’ll be there when they need me, for whatever they need me for, I am,” he tells her.

“I like the way you think, EZ. I recently went through something that made me remember what’s important in life too. It wasn’t prison, at least, not the kind you went to,” she mumbles, “but still life-altering. There’s nothing more important than family, whether it be blood or the one you’ve chosen.”

“I will cheers to that,” EZ states, and their bottles clink together once more.

“Aye, prospect,” they both hear and turn towards the front door. Angel is walking up, that swagger being used with every step. “You might want to get out there. Coco is trying to set you up in a fight.”

“Of course, he is,” EZ sighs as he stands, and Mia giggles into her beer bottle. “It was nice talking to you, Mia, I hope we can get to know each other more.”

“Back at ya and if you need fixed up after let me know. I am a nurse. An unemployed one, but still,” she offers as he’s walking away.

When he reaches the door EZ turns. “I just might take you up on that. Thanks.”

Angel joins her behind the bar and grabs a beer of his own. “You flirting with my little brother, Flores?” he questions as he twists off the cap to his bottle.

Mia shrugs and tries to look innocent. “Well, I figured I might as well try for the whole set. Is your dad dropping by again later?”

Angel chokes on his beer and Mia laughs as he spits up a little. “Very fucking funny,” he grumbles while reaching for something to wipe his kutte off with.

“I thought so,” she agrees. “So, what are you doing in here? Aren’t you worried your brother is going to get his ass kicked by whatever patch Coco set him up with?”

Angel snorts. “The kid spent eight years in Stockton, he can hold his own. Besides, I hear we have this new nurse hanging around in case he gets in any trouble.”

“Oh really? Lucky guy,” Mia teases before lifting herself onto the bar. There’s a mirror behind it she can see herself in.

Her hair has held up in the somewhat tighter curls she tried for, thanks to the mousse, and her make up is still doing its job of hiding her ever-present eyebags and adding a little pink to her cheeks. The smoky eye is something she hasn’t attempted in a minute, but it’s not half-bad.

Her outfit is something she hasn’t worn in forever, since she lived in Oakland, actually. Jeans that are so tight they are a second skin and high-waisted, with a black top that laces and ties up the back like a corset. Still, a good bit of her stomach is showing, and some cleavage too. Bishop had given her a look back at his house, so a big black sweater was put on over top but has now fallen around her elbows.

“Shouldn’t you be out there enjoying your party?” Angel asks, breaking the objectification of herself.

“My party?” she questions before finishing off her beer and tossing it in the trash.

Angel looks around expectantly. “I’m sorry, isn’t all of this for you, or am I fooling around with the wrong girl?”

Mia shakes her head down at him, or directly at him more like, since at this height she’s in his eye line. “No, this party is for Bishop. We haven’t been on the best terms for a few years, so this is his chance to show me off, get the DILF card, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s more than that,” he tells her. “I’ve known the guy for years and I’ve never seen him smile this much. He’s genuinely happy you’re here, querida.”

Mia smiles down at her hands and picks at her black fingernails. “He is, huh?”

Angel lifts her chin so he can look her in the eye. “Mhm, but if I had a daughter that looked like you, I would not be parading her around in front of these fucks, that’s for damn sure,”

“Is that so?” she asks, her tone lined with laughter. Before she can stop herself, a hand reaches up and caresses his beard before tugging on it playfully.

“Not in those fuckin’ jeans, hell no,” he confirms.

“What’s wrong with my jeans?” she asks as her nails rub the underside of his chin. His beard is softer than it looks, he obviously uses something in it to make it that way, and she wants to tease him for it, but saves the information for later instead.

“I don’t know if you know this, but,” Angel starts and moves to stand between her legs, even pulling her a little closer by the backs of her knees, “if you put a quarter in your back pocket, I bet you could tell if it was heads or tails. That’s how tight they are on your ass.”

“You been starin’ at my ass, Reyes?” she questions with another light tug on his beard.

“Um, yeah,” he answers easily, and his face looks so ‘duh!’ that she can’t stop the laughter from bubbling up her throat. “Among other things,” he adds on, then takes another sip of his beer.

“It’s nice to know it’s being appreciated,” she whispers with both her hands cupping his cheeks now, and her forehead leans forward to rest on his.

“Among other things,” he repeats softly before nipping at her lips with his. It’s gentle and slow, pretty much the opposite of their encounter the other night.

“You know, I think I figured out how to make it up to you,” she murmurs when they pull away.

“Oh, yeah?”

Mia nods as a hand slips inside his shirt to scratch at his happy trail. “I know it sounds simple, but hear me out,” she whispers, to which he nods. “I can suck your dick.”

“That’s it, huh?” he asks with hands sliding up and down her thighs.

“Oh, but I’m really good at it,” she assures him, and he chuckles against her mouth. “Wanna see?”

Angel just nods and kisses her.

After a few moments Mia pushes him away and hops down off the bar. “C’mon,” she urges as she takes his hand and leads him down the hall towards the kitchen but enters the storage room instead.

“Really?” he questions and flicks on the light above them.

“What? You think you earned fucking me at the table where you hold Templo? Uh-uh,” she says while undoing his jeans and letting her sweater fall off in the process. “Besides, who says you get to fuck me? All I agreed to was sucking your dick.”

Angel grins at that and pulls her into a kiss that includes tongue and teeth and makes her feel dirty in the best way. “We’ll see about that,” he mumbles when they pull away.

“I guess we will,” she agrees and pushes his boxers down until his hard-on springs free. “I’m sure you heard this before, and I hate to boost your ego, but it has to be said,” she starts as her hand wraps around it and pulls just enough to make him sigh. “You really do have a nice dick.”

“I’ll keep that in mind—shit,” he swears when she drops to her knees and wastes no time taking him into her mouth. “Fuck.”

His hands thread into her hair and take hold to keep her in place. She’s able to take a large part of him into her mouth before he triggers her gag reflex and he moans at the flutter of the back of her throat.

She hums as her head bobs, one hand on the base of his cock, the other paying attention to his balls, softly massaging them with her fingertips. When his hands tighten on her scalp she pulls away from him, making a loud smacking sound with her lips.

“No, back,” Angel whines from above her and tries to maneuver her mouth back onto his cock, but she resists.

Instead, she pumps him with her one hand while her tongue swirls and plays with his tip. His hips buck and she can practically feel his impatience. Enjoying this side of him, Mia continues to tease. Her tongue curls and sweeps up and down the sides of his cock, her mouth even moving to suck on his balls lightly. They tighten against her tongue and she giggles a little—Angel Reyes likes his balls played with.

Before she can go on one of his hands pulls on her hair, the other lifting her from the armpit so she’s standing again and his lips are on hers, completely taking control of the situation until she’s the one backed against the wall and he’s attempting to undo her jeans.

“No, no, no,” Mia breathes, pushing on his chest, leaving him heaving in front of her. “I promised to make it up to you, remember? You’re finishing in my mouth, bebé.”

Angel shakes his head and crowds her against the wall, his lips hovering over hers. “I want to turn you around and take you right here, right now, mi dulce.”

“As lovely as that sounds,” Mia murmurs as her nose brushes against his, “I keep my promises. It’s my mouth or nothing, you choose.”

He leans down and kisses her roughly, biting at her lip in frustration. “On your knees, then.”

Mia grins, puckering her lips to kiss him once more before getting back into position. Pre-cum is leaking from his tip and she knows he’s close, even after their little intermission. She makes a show of licking it up and Angel groans while pressing his palms into the wall behind her, his hands threatening to turn into fists.

She takes him into her mouth after pumping him a few times, and he surprises her by bucking into her, triggering her gag reflex before she’s quite ready. A hand grabs onto her head, keeping her there, and she lets it happen even though it makes her eyes water. It only goes on for a moment before he’s emptying himself into her mouth and she opens her throat instinctually to swallow.

“Jesus Christ,” Angel huffs as he lets her go, his eyes closed and his face looking completely blissed out.

Mia wipes her mouth and picks up her sweater as she stands. “Told you I was good at it.”

He grins now, his eyes fluttering open. “Yes, you did,” he mumbles before kissing her and it shocks her a little, especially when he uses tongue because Jay never did that after she blew him, he didn’t like it. Of course, it didn’t happen regularly because the guy had a problem coming too quickly with even small amounts of foreplay.

Mia pushes the thought of her ex out of her head and lets Angel kiss her. It’s slow and drawn out, and his tongue is doing things that she wants recreated between her thighs. She forgot what it’s like to just be kissed, kissed really fucking well.

This guy cannot be fucking real.

“Well, I believe my job here is done,” she breathes after literally forcing herself away from him.

“Mine’s not,” Angel insists and tries to pull her back into his arms.

“That, my friend, is your problem,” she tells him while reaching for the doorknob.

“Seriously?” he asks and she bites her lip to keep from laughing at the sight of him. His pants are still pushed down below his ass, his dick is getting hard again, and he looks like a child who just got taken his favorite toy taken away.

“Weren’t you the one saying I have a party to get back to?” she questions and leaves before he does something to change her mind.

She stops in the bathroom to look herself over. Her lips are a little swollen, but not very noticeable, and she flips her hair a couple times so it’s not so apparent Angel’s fingers were in it. When she comes back to the bar, EZ is back, and Coco is there too, but no Angel.

“Wow, done already?” she asks as she reaches for what will probably be her last beer.

“It wasn’t really a fight,” EZ explains as Coco laughs. “He was pretty drunk. I tried to tell him it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Boy Scout threw one punch and knocked the fucker out,” Coco tells her. “He’s still laying in the cage.”

“I didn’t knock him out, I think he passed out on his own,” EZ insists. “I was wondering if you’d check him out though. We tried to wake him up and didn’t have much luck.”

“Sure thing,” Mia agrees and starts to follow EZ when Angel comes out from the back hallway. “We probably shouldn’t leave him there if he’s that drunk anyways.”

“Bro, you fucking missed it. Baby brother knocked someone the fuck out,” Coco boasts.

“I didn’t… never mind, c’mon,” EZ sighs and leads her out of the clubhouse.

Less people are milling around. She assumes quite a few either are sleeping it off somewhere, or a group headed back to Vicki’s for a whole different kind of fun.

“Hey, grab that,” Mia instructs EZ as they pass an empty ice bucket. He doesn’t question, just grabs it, and she thinks again, she really likes these Reyes boys.

He’s an older Mayan, the one passed out in the middle of the cage, and he’s snoring. He’s one of the guy’s riding through the area and stopped for the party. She opens his lids to check his pupils and shines her cellphone light in them—it’s so nice having a smart phone again, she thinks.

“Hey, Bop, this guy volatile?” she calls when she sees her godfather watching.

“No more than anyone else,” he answers with a shrug.

Mia nods and stands, the beer still in her hand. “Alright, EZ, pour it,” she instructs. A group has gathered to watch the show and EZ, once again, does as he’s told.

He wakes up screaming in Spanish and swinging at the both of them.

“Hey, watch it,” EZ threatens and pushes Mia behind him a little.

“The fuck was that for?” the man yells.

Mia crouches down to look at him. “If you would have rathered stay here and choke on your own puke and die all you had to do was say so,” she says sweetly.

“Get dressed and sleep it off in the clubhouse,” Bishop instructs the man, who still looks very grumpy.

“…definitely his fucking kid,” she hears him say as they exit the cage and she shakes her head, but is smiling all the same. She’ll never be offended by that statement again.

A few minutes later she finds herself away from everyone, nursing her beer, and looking up at the sky. There’s so much to see away from the lights of cities and pollution. All these stars aren’t visible in San Francisco, or even in Oakland. Everything is clearer out here, less complicated, and exactly as it seems.

“Hey,” someone greets from behind her causing her to jump and drop her beer. “Shit, sorry,” Bishop apologizes and picks it up for her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just lost in my own head,” she attempts to laugh and takes the near-empty bottle from him. “What’s up?”

“You have a good time?” he asks, and Angel’s right, he hasn’t stopped smiling since she got here.

“A great time,” she confirms and looks up at the sky again. “It’s beautiful out here at night. There’s so many stars.”

Bishop looks up with her as an arm wraps around her shoulders. “I never really noticed before.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop noticing,” she murmurs.

“How much did you have to drink?” he questions and she smacks him on the stomach, and he laughs. “Listen, I don’t want you hanging around attempting to clean up after your own party. I asked around, Angel said he’d give you a ride home if that’s okay with you?”

“He did, did he?” Mia laughs and nods. “Yeah, that’s fine. But I’m happy to hang out and—”

“No, pequeña,” Bishop cuts her off. “We got this.”

“By ‘we’ you mean EZ?” she jokes and he laughs too.

“Something like that,” he replies. “I have a few things to take care of here, but I’ll be home in a few hours.”

They start walking back towards the clubhouse. “A few things to take care of, huh? Is that what they are calling it nowadays?”

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, you know that?” he tells her and bumps into her shoulder with his.

“Anyone I need to give a talking to? Let them know how awesome you are and that I’ll kick their ass if—ah!” she squeals when he tickles her.

“Enough, Mia Valentina,” he states, and she laughs loudly.

“Yes, sir, Obispo, sir,” she goes on with a salute and all.

“Alright, Angel, get her home, will you? She needs to sleep it off,” Bishop calls over and it’s only now she notices they are near their line of bikes and Angel is already on his with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Will do, jefe,” the younger patch promises.

“Hey, I am not drunk,” she assures him as he kisses her cheek. “I’m not, I’m just in a good mood. Am I not allowed to be?”

“Yeah, just do it somewhere else,” Bishop tells her and she opens her mouth in fake shock. “Grab your helmet from my bike, don’t make him give his up, you know how I am about helmets.”

“Wow, I think you just lost about ten cool points,” Mia mumbles, but does as she’s told.

“There is nothing cool about splitting open your skull on the side of the road,” Bishop says in a firm tone.

“You really have a lot of confidence in my ride home, don’t you? You sure I shouldn’t pick a different one? Gilly, maybe? Or EZ?” she suggests while fastening the helmet to her head. “Oh, what about Coco, I’m sure he could show me a good time.”

“On the bike, Mia,” Bishop practically orders.

Mia grins. She missed teasing him. She’s one of the few who get away with it. “Fine, geez, if you’re gonna make me,” she sighs as she swings her leg over the bike and settles behind Angel.

“Make sure she gets in the house,” Bishop tells Angel. “And Mia, lock the door behind you, both bolts—”

“The cool points are dropping by the second,” Mia sing-songs and can feel Angel chuckling in front of her.

Bishop decides to ignore her and instead does that manly handshake they do. “Thanks for this. Safe ride home, brother.”

“Back at you, brother,” Angel responds as he kicks the engine over as he grabs ahold of the handlebars.

“So, I hear you selflessly volunteered to drive me home.”

“Well, I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” Angel assures her.

“Hm, I’ll be the judge of that,” she whispers in his ear and he revs the engine as they make their way out onto the road.

It might be the alcohol, or maybe the easy relationship her and Bishop seem to be falling back into, or even the anticipation of the sex she knows is going to happen again with Angel, but Mia feels happy.

It’s funny, the weightlessness of it, how her body is responding to it and making her giddy.

She knows that it’s fleeting—when she goes to bed bad memories will plague her dreams, she and Bishop will continue to not talk about her mother, that little voice in the back of her head will make her wonder what Jay is doing, how hard he’s looking for her, if he’ll ever find her.

But for now she gives in to the alcohol, the love she has for the man who raised her, and the growing affection for the man driving her home.

Mia gets caught up in watching the lights speeding by, reminding her of shooting stars in the sky, of the endless possibilities she has if she can stay hidden and keep her secrets. She doesn’t even notice they are slowing down until they are at a complete stop.

“What’s wrong?” she asks over the low rumble of his motorcycle.

“I don’t know about you, mi dulce, but I always stop at stop signs,” he insists.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Ha-ha, this is more than a stop sign, where are we going?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” he replies, his head turned back to look at her. “We go straight, I take you home. We turn left we pass my apartment and take the long way. Your pick, querida.”

“Your apartment, huh?” she asks and squeezes his middle. “You think we’re there, yet? Going from a bathroom, to a storage closet, to your bed is a pretty big jump, don’t you think?” she teases. “I don’t know if we’re ready for that step yet.”

Angel’s mouth curls up into a smirk. “Believe it or not, I got a lot of fucking surfaces at my place if you think the bed is too much of a commitment for you.”

Mia lets out a loud laugh. “Fucking surfaces, huh? Nice choice of words.”

He revs the bike’s engine. “Waiting on you.”

Mia leans in closer to his ear. “Turn left. I want the scenic route,” she whispers. She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles but takes off without another word.

A few minutes later they are pulling into a sprawling apartment complex and Angel parks in the very last spot on the end marked with a letter and number, she assumes his assigned parking spot.

“Not bad, any of the other guys live here?” she asks as they get off the bike and undo their helmets.

“Why, wanna make a house call?” Angel counters, and she tosses her helmet at him, hitting him square in the stomach. “Oof, feisty.”

“I’ll show you feisty,” she mutters with her arms crossed in fake anger.

“Not tonight you won’t,” he tells her before bending down and maneuvering her body over his shoulder.

“Ah! Angel!” she exclaims, holding onto his hips for balance.

“You had your fun earlier, I’m in charge now,” he warns with a smack to her ass.

“Watch my head,” she pleads, the amusement in her voice obvious, as he walks up the steps to his second-floor apartment. “I don’t want to ruin the mood with a concussion.”

“Haven’t you learned by now? You’re safe with me, querida,” he assures her while unlocking his door. He kicks it shut behind them before setting her back on the ground.

“Whew, head rush,” she breathes and flips her head until her hair is out of her eyes.

Looking to Angel she finds he’s already taking off his kutte and it reveals a concealed gun holster underneath. He quickly does away with that too, dropping it on the table next to the door for now. She tries not to be turned on by the sight of him with a gun but fails miserably.

Having grown up around guns, they don’t scare her—in fact, Bishop taught her how to use one at thirteen years old right before her first “real” date. If she remembers correctly, he also gave her an expensive looking pocketknife around then, telling her that if she’s ever attacked to stick it in her assailant’s gut and twist.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she speaks up a moment later as he stares down at her during the silence. “You’re in charge remember? I’m just waiting to be told what to do.”

Angel shakes his head at her. “You know exactly what to do, you taught me that earlier, remember?”

“I left an impression, huh?” she jokes while slowly undoing that buttons to his shirt, but instead of the bare chest she wants, it’s a wife beater underneath.

“Oh, long before that,” he assures her, making her smile to herself and push the button-up down his shoulders.

Soon after she’s lifting the tank top and he takes the hint, tossing it aside all together. “There it is,” she breathes, smiling at the sight of his chest. Her fingertips instantly reach forward to play with his happy trail, lightly scratching down until they hit the button of his jeans.

Before she can continue Angel twists her hips so her back is to him and starts to untie the laces going up her spine. When it’s loose enough she raises her arms so he can take it off her altogether.

“I’m in charge, remember?” he whispers in her ear as he moves all her hair to one shoulder so his face can nuzzle in the other.

“If you say so,” she sighs contentedly, her head falling to one side to give him more room. His lips travel along her shoulder and neck, kissing lightly, his beard tickling her just so.

Her entire body jerks when his hands take ahold of her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and pointer fingers. “Didn’t get a change to pay attention to these the other night,” he says in a husky tone that makes her knees weak.

“What a shame,” Mia breathes and before she knows it Angel is scooping her up in his arms and dropping her on his couch none too gently.

“The couch okay? Or you think we should take this to the kitchen table?” he asks as he towers over her. “Don’t wanna skip too many fucking steps.”

Mia grins and takes off her shoes, socks included, before shrugging. “You’re in charge, remember?” she counters, being a brat and she’s fully aware of it. “Your call, papi.”

Angel licks his lips as he looks down at her, his dick obviously hard in his jeans, the area becoming so tight it looks uncomfortable. Mia lifts a foot and starts to rub the bulge slowly, teasingly. “As lovely as this view is, and feels,” he says as he takes ahold of her foot to stop her, “I have some payback to do.”

“Payback?” Mia questions and lifts her hips as he pulls on her jeans. “I owed you, remember?”

He does that licking his lips thing again as if he knows it’s driving her fucking nuts. “Mhm and leaving me there like that means now I owe you,” he says and slips her underwear down her legs too.

Angel lifts both her legs up in the air and wastes no time licking all the way up her swollen pink slit. “Fuck,” Mia pants, her toes curling as it feels like he’s devouring her.

Just as she feels her pleasure building, he pulls away causing her to whine. It’s faint, but he hears it, and grins down at her as he wipes her juices from his beard. “Up on your knees, face the other way,” he orders and on with shaky limbs she does as she’s told.

She hears movement behind her but doesn’t look back. Suddenly her knees are being spread apart and she feels his head settle between them. “Shit,” she breathes as he positions her opening over his mouth.

Maybe it’s the lack of foreplay in the last two years or any real pleasure actually, but even if she had been getting off more than just to her own vibrator, Mia thinks Angel has a gift. He knows how to eat a woman out. It’s like he’s showing her how good he is at it because of how she teased him earlier.

And she’s starting to regret it.

As his tongue licks and flicks at her clit Mia grips onto the arm of the couch, her nails digging in. “Right there, like that,” she chants and curls over the arm, and honestly considers grinding down on his face and cutting off his air supply. He’s so good she thinks he really might have some sort of gills.

She’s so close and it feels so good the muscles in her legs start shaking in need.

“Please, I need…” she trails off when she feels him shake his head at her request. “Yes, I can’t,” she stops when his tongue leaves her clit altogether and instead sweeps up inside her. “No, no, no,” she cries and before she even knows what she’s doing she’s off his face, off the couch, and on the floor crawling away from him.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?’ she hears above her and she just shakes her head with her eyes closed.

“I just need a minute,” she whispers, her body curling into a ball with her legs crossed to ease the ache.

“Here’s how this is going to play out,” Angel says, and she opens her eyes to see him dropping his pants and rubbing his own hard-on. The sight doesn’t help her situation any. “You’re going to come on my mouth first, or not at all.”

Her own words from earlier echo in her head and she curses herself.

“Your call,” he repeats her words once more.

Mia lets out a shaky breath and opens her legs to him. As he descends upon her she thinks that if he licks his lips one more time she’s going to slap him. Still, when those same lips pucker around her clit she threads her finger into his hair to keep him there.

He doesn’t tease much this time, because he probably knows she’s close to either hitting him or finishing the job herself if he doesn’t.

It’s at the exact moment he begins to hum with her clit in his mouth that she comes, and she comes hard. Her legs start to shake, fingers rattle along his hairline, and her eyes squeeze closed as he flicks at her nub through the entirety of it.

When he finally pulls away, Mia curls into herself once again and crosses one leg over the other. “Evil,” she manages to mumble.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she hears him say before she’s being put back onto the couch belly down. “I got plans for you, mi dulce.”

“Not to purposefully play on words, but I’m screwed,” she sighs and feels his lips ghost up her spine as he chuckles.

“Yes, you are,” Angel agrees while lifting her hips until she’s on all fours.

“Can’t wait,” she replies and moans when he slides two fingers into her, curling just so. They exit her as quickly as they enter, but before she can complain about it his fingers are replaced with his cock in one swift movement. “Oh, my God, holy shit.”

Mia moves back and forth, up and down, noises exiting her throat every time he’s completely sheathed inside her, filling her up. He’s mumbling something in in Spanish, but she can’t make out what.

Angel grips her hips when her moves become frantic, taking control with his dick deep inside her. “Sh, baby, I got you,” he promises as a hand wraps around her throat and his lips kiss at her temple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she swears and holds onto the arm of the couch until her knuckles turn white. “Angel,” she moans, her voice low and needy.

“C’mere,” he murmurs and turns her head until their lips connect.

“Oh, my God,” she breaks the kiss in a moan and drops her head down to bury it in the cushions.

Angel pulls out of her and situates them so her legs are in between his and she’s lying flat. Mia pushes up on her hips so he can slide into her more easily and he does without warning. “Fuck,” he groans as he slides into the tight hole.

Mia sits up just enough so she can shake her ass in a way that’s proven successful in the past, but she only does it for a few moments before Angel takes over, leaning down over her and fucks her even deeper, making her cry out so loud she bites a cushion to stiffle it.

“You like that?” he questions in her ear and she nods into the cotton she’s still biting. “I wanna hear you, querida,” he urges, using his hand to pull up on her throat and let go of the cushion. He continues his movements and she tries to keep in her shrieks, but it’s not easy. He’s hitting a spot that’s only been felt once or twice before in happy accidents, but Angel’s not holding back.

“If you don’t… I’m gonna—” she manages between thrusts and cries.

“Do it,” he tells her and speeds up. “You have any idea what it feels like when you come on my cock, baby?” he asks as she feels herself start to spasm. “Your pussy—fuck,” he stops as she starts to come. “Just like that. Your pussy is so tight, and when you come your whole fucking body shakes, your pussy included.”

He let’s up when she screams, unable to hold back and her entire body sags, but he’s right, she is shaking. When her body settles Angel pulls out of her and she notices he’s still hard—he hasn’t come yet.

Seriously, he isn’t fucking real.

Mia flips over, still in between his legs, and finds him stroking himself above her. “I know, I know, you’re not done with me,” she sighs and he chuckles. “But a girl needs a minute to recuperate.”

“You want me to be done?” Angel questions while opening her legs and resting them on his hips.

“Fuck no,” she answers easily and links her fingers through his, pulling until he’s on top of her and presses her lips against his. “Now, fuck me deep and slow and don’t stop until you come too.”

Angel smiles against her mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

CHAPTER 3

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inanotheruniversemusings · 4 years

Text

got your green eyes in the back of my mind (it’s true)

fill for Supercorptober2020 prompt: baking

read on ao3

“Hi, what can I get you today?”

Lena starts a little. She’s gotten used to the cheery voice, having frequented the coffee shop for quite some time now—it’s her favorite, really; not that anyone’s asked aside from her best friend, Sam—has known its owner even longer, being that they’ve shared half of the same classes the last two semesters.

This, though, is a tad bit new. This being the name tag pinned over the shirt pocket of the cashier’s chest. It usually says Hello, I’m Kara, but now it has the I’m blotted out by black marker ink so that the Hello is perfectly—correctly—followed by prettiest girl I’ve seen today.

(How she managed to fit all those words within the tiny space and in such a neat scribble, Lena has no idea.)

“Uhm,” Lena tries to say; wants to tell the equally beautiful blonde girl who smiles like the sun that she wants her usual. But Lena just can’t stop wondering, and she just has to ask. So she does. “Did you forget the, umh,” she tries a second time, yet she ends up merely pointing at the name tag instead.

“Oh,” Kara mumbles. A well-timed dip of her head hides the sudden flush that blooms on her cheeks. Though there’s really nothing she can do about the redness that crawls down to her neck but fiddle with her glasses. “It’s—there was a dare. There may have been a dare involved.”

Lena nods, her brows arching in barely-contained amusement. “I see.”

Kara flushes even more that she starts swallowing quite visibly, and in a fast, admittedly slightly worrying phase. “Anyway,” she attempts to press on, waving her hands in an added gesture. But she’s still stiff and so flustered that she ends up looking like she’s slicing at the air.

Lena laughs, more to herself—and the adorable state she’s seemed to have left Kara in—than anything; decides to save the other woman from further embarrassment by speaking. “Can I get my usual?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Kara answers. Her voice is unnaturally high, not that Lena knows the sound of it or anything, even as she tries to squeeze in one of her quips. “Or, well, I guess Nia’s, since she’s our barista.”

“Yep, that’s me,” the woman in question chimes in from somewhere behind Kara. She even brings a hand to where her very own name tag is pinned on her apron as she starts to approach the counter to stand beside the other woman; places it palm-up right beneath the scrawl that reads Nia in all caps.

Kara, in turn, just lets out an exasperated sigh and closes her eyes, tight enough that Lena can hazard two guesses on what she’s thinking: she’s wishing for Nia to disappear, or for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

She twists a little to meet Nia, despite also having known her three days after her first ever visit to the cafe, smiles at her teasingly. “Enchanté?”

“Oooh,” Nia hums, eyes sparkling with amusement and looking impressed as she turns to whisper to Kara. Or at least she thinks she does. “Your lady doth speaketh French. Taste, muy bien.”

“That’s not even Fr—I—” Kara fumbles for words, but ends up just pushing Nia out of Lena’s view when she fails to come up with something else and before Nia can wreak further havoc, especially on Kara’s already dwindling spirits.

Lena watches her walk away, the sound of her cackle filling in the air until Kara speaks again. “Sorry about that.” She pushes her glasses back up, shaking the last ten minutes away with a more steady smile this time. “I—your usual right? That’d be two dollars and fifty cents.”

Lena hands Kara a ten matched with one of her charmed smiles. The rest of its change goes to the shop’s tip jar like it always does, and the effects of the same smile colors the tips of Kara’s ears, charming Lena right back.

(There’s a reason why Lena has always been Nia’s favorite customer. A ton, really, though Kara will always have more.)

“Thank you!” Kara tells her—more like squeaks, really. Lena doesn’t stand a chance of not being endeared. “I’ll be right by your table to bring your Au Lait once it’s ready. Same spot?”

“Of course. You know where to find me.”

Kara beams at her then, wide and bright, as if the remnants of her earlier nervousness she has completely shaken away.

And it’s like a shock to her system that Lena only ever gets from coffee, as warm as the first sip she takes after she’s let it cool a little, with a sprinkle of sugar and something else incredibly nice that Lena doesn’t quite have a name yet.

…

Seven minutes and fifteen pounding lub dubs later—when she catches Kara’s eyes just as she’s handing the change to another customer, and Kara sends her another one of her smiles that Lena’s honestly starting to think she’s more hooked into than coffee itself—her Au Lait arrives.

Nia’s drawn a gear over the foam, which Lena incredibly appreciates and kind of also hates because of how steady Nia’s hands must have been, and she may be a tad bit jealous of that.

“It was just half yesterday,” Lena says by way of greeting, though she’s unable to keep the awe from her tone.

Kara laughs softly, and then lifts the mug up the tray to set it in front of Lena. “Nia’s been practicing. I think she’s trying to find a better gig than this.”

I am not, floats from behind the counter, a feigned affronted sound that Nia easily follows with, “But if Lena wants her own personal barista, I am very much open to discussion.”

“And if I do,” Lena replies, equally teasing. “You’ll be my first call.”

“Hear that, K?” Nia yells towards Kara this time. “So if I were you I’d chop-chop.”

“Ignore her,” Kara says; even makes a show of doing so.

“Like, today, Miss Danvers.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kara mouths.

A part of Lena does feel sorry for her, for the helpless look that’s starting to take over her face. But a bigger part of Lena is admittedly enjoying such banter; feels like Kara is more at ease here than when she’s at university, and Lena loves that for reasons she’s still resisting to name.

(But it’s there, was at the back of her throat the week before, but then Kara’s asked her what she knew about quantum entanglement during their shared walk to Quantum Mechanics class and it slid further up and then out; now dangles at the tip of her tongue, so ready to be let loose.)

She’s saved from saying anything that she can classify as stupid by Kara clearing her throat. Kara’s smile is back, albeit it’s a little shaky. Though the tremble her hand makes, as it sets the slice of cake right next to where Lena’s coffee mug is, is much more noticeable.

But Lena chooses not to comment on it, much to Kara’s relief. She pulls her hand back, wiping them both on her apron more as a nervous habit than a conscious move.

“I don’t remember ordering cake,” Lena says, but it’s not unkind.

Kara nips at her bottom lip, then frees it before answering. “It’s on the house.”

“Oh.” Lena isn’t—definitely isn’t—mesmerized by that sight. “Well, thank you.”

“It’s—I’ve been working on my baking. Alex says I may have the knack for it. She’s my sister by the way. She—she owns this place. She and her girlfriend. You may have met them once, when Nia and I had to miss work for some symposium thing at school. Not—not that I’m saying you’re here every day. Or that that’s a bad thing. In fact it’s a good—I’m very glad. Just super glad. That you are. Here, I mean.”

Lena’s able to pick a ton of things from that. But she doesn’t really think she has the emotional capability to unpack most of it right now, not when Kara’s standing right in front of her, fiddling with the hem of her apron nervously as she tries—and fails—not to stare at Lena, and Lena feels a weakness in her knees that only Kara has ever made her feel. So she chooses on the closest—lightest part to focus on. “Baking, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “It’s my first cake of the day.”

Lena playfully narrows her eyes. “So I’m your guinea pig?”

“What?” Kara panics—well, almost does, if not for the laugh Lena cushions her teasing comment with. “It’s—no! I tried it first.”

(Just in case she somehow has mistaken salt for sugar again. But of course she doesn’t tell Lena that.)

“I’m just kidding, Kara,” Lena appeases. She shifts her gaze towards the slice of sweet pastry, noting the minced pieces of carrots spread cleanly all over the two layers. Lena knows it’s a total coincidence, but no one really has to know that she’d like to think it’s more, that Kara has picked her favorite out of all the possible choices.

Like quantum entanglement, her mind echoes.

“I’m sure it’s delicious. It certainly looks like it.”

“I really hope so,” Kara answers, nipping at her bottom lip again. “Or I’d be really, really embarrassed.”

“You’d never have to be.”

Silence fills the space again. But Lena feels something stretch over between them, feels it stronger when Kara twists as if to return to her spot by the cashier and says, “Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your day.”

It stretches further as Kara starts walking away, and then snaps taut when Kara gains one more step. It snaps Lena back into attention in turn, her mouth moving before her brain can even catch up to her. “Kara!”

Kara wheels around, tilting her head to look at Lena expectantly. “Yes?”

“Do you give baking lessons?” Lena then asks—and, okay, maybe her brain hasn’t really fully caught up yet.

“Sorry?”

“Do you—can you teach me how to bake?” Yes, definitely hasn’t caught up to her thought process yet. Her mouth and her brain really needs to cooperate. “It’s just, my brother’s birthday is coming up, and I was thinking I’ll make him his own cake instead of buying one.”

Maybe even put Happy Birthday, Baldie as the message, and, okay, maybe it isn’t too bad of an idea after all.

“I—” Kara begins to say, looking like she’s at a loss too. Lena can’t really blame her either. Yet, Kara agrees in the end, and Lena definitely doesn’t know how to deal with that. “Sure.”

In the heat of the moment—Lena will later on say, will refuse to call it anything but that—she grabs the book she’s set on the table, flipping to one of the blank pages at the very back. And then, she looks up at Kara, tipping her chin up to gesture towards the pen tucked inside one of the pockets of Kara’s apron. “Can I borrow your pen?”

Kara hands it wordlessly, and it’s only the slight crinkle in between her brows who speaks for her own confusion.

Lena will also later on say that there is a part of her that feels pained as she tears off half of the blank page. But for now, she does it without a single hint of remorse, and then scribbles out ten digits that may or may not set the next years of her life.

“Call me? And then we can talk about it.”

…

(Much, much later on, Lena will definitely say she’s never been more thankful for a slice of cake and a half-sized piece of paper.

It’s not in her vows, but she does tell Kara at some point, under a sea of stars, and amidst the sound of calm waves hitting the shore and her very own breathing finally coming down from a soaring height.)

…

“Figures. Your lady likes veggies in her pastries. That’s just so wrong.”

“Your favorite pie is literally pumpkin.”

“It’s an ancient recipe and has been proven to actually taste good. Carrot, though? It’s like, just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Nia.”

“Yeah, yeah, it got you the girl anyway.”

#supercorp #supercorptober2020 #myfics

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totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes · 4 years

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After the Rain (Fanfic)

Delia

In which in an attempt to bond with Lydia Delia takes her on a shopping trip. Worried about her step-daughter making friends at her new school Delia tries to guide her, though often making the situation more awkward than it already was.

Note: this fanfic goes to show that coming out comes in many diffrent ways, there’s no one way to do it

_______________________________________________________________

Lydia wasn’t the biggest fan of shopping but Delia suggested that they go on a step-mother-step-daughter shopping bonding trip that weekend and Lydia literally couldn’t think of one reason not to despite her best efforts to come up with one at the moment. She just hated how crowded the mall could be and she doubted that what Delia meant by shopping was a trip to the electronics store where Lydia could browse around all the camera accessories and expensive cameras she’d never be able to afford. She had guessed correctly that their outing would be browsing the local mall in the next town over, getting their nails done, and getting lunch. Not all of those things she hated, she actually enjoyed going to the nail shop with Delia who didn’t even push it when she got black nails, as usual, the only thing Delia suggested was some glitter which Lydia reluctantly added and refused to admit that she actually quite liked.

“Lydia I know you’re starting school in a month or two and I thought maybe we could get you some new clothes,” Delia suggested, pushing her food around her plate while they sat in the restaurant

Lydia smiled, “I have a uniform, but thank you anyway.”

“I know you have a uniform, don’t know why Charles insisted on picking a school with the ugliest uniform I’ve ever seen-”

“It’s only a white button-up shirt and a black skirt.” Lydia teased, “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Maybe not, but you do need clothes for not school. When you go out with your friends and do things that typical teenagers do like..I don’t know do Fortnight dances and talk about memes. You want to be up to date on the newest fashion trends so you can look...as the kids say, Lit AF.”

“Delia I enjoy spending time with you but please for the love of God don’t talk like that again. I’m embarrassed for you.” Lydia covered her face with her hands and groaned, “And I don’t like the popular clothes. You must know by now that I prefer black.”

“We can work with that though! I know you like dresses but you definitely need some shirts and pants, and I know it’s a while until winter but it’s really cold in Connecticut so you’ll need a winter wardrobe.”

“I lived in New York all my life? I’m pretty sure I know how to dress for the snow.”

Delia blushed, “I know, I know you do I just want to help your transition to this new school smoother. I know you really struggled at your old school and kids can be so mean, I just don’t want you to have to deal with that all again. I want you to be happy here.”

“I am happy here, I have all of you guys at the house to keep me company.”

Delia got quiet and looked over at her step-daughter. She didn’t want to say anything to the contrary because Lydia looked so sincere when she said that. There was a genuine smile on her face, and while Delia was glad that she loved spending time with them she wanted to make sure that Lydia had friends of her own, friends her own age that she could really connect with and be happy around. Even at her old school, she was pretty alone, Lydia didn’t open up about much when they first met in New York at Delia’s old office but it was evident that Lydia spent much of her time at school by herself. She would mention a few kids every now and then but nothing to suggest they were more than passing acquaintances. She also knew that Lydia was harshly bullied and it would break her heart if it happened at this new school. Lydia liked to call herself an outsider, she didn’t like to follow the trends at school or online, and Delia sincerely hoped that Lydia would find her people in Connecticut, but shuddered at the memories of a desolate and lonely girl sitting with her knees tucked to her chest while she sat in Delia’s office talking about how she loves learning but can’t take the constant harassment from her peers. Delia had once tried to convince Lydia that her problem was positivity and that all Lydia needed to do was be more warm and friendly and as a result, people would like her. She now realized how wrong she was and how much more damage that did to Lydia by unintentionally shifting the blame onto her.

Delia shook away the thoughts of the past, wanting to move forward in her relationship with her step-daughter. She returned Lydia’s enthusiasm with a smile, “I know you love spending time with us, and I hope that you find more people to be around. I know it would be good for you.”

“Yeah maybe,” Lydia shrugged, disinterested.

The two of them finished their meal, paid their bill and went over to the mall. It was less crowded than the malls had been in New York, which eased some of Lydia’s tension. She still had to dodge the aggressive perfume testers offering her a free sample. They went to a couple stores mainly with Delia finding herself a couple of things to buy though she would suggest things to Lydia that would earn a scrunched up nose or a shake of the head. Delia kept trying to get her more colorful looking things, light blues, yellows, pinks, and reds. Lydia would be open to the idea of more color in her clothing but bright obnoxious colors had always been a turn off for her, she wanted to be able to blend in and bright colors made her stick out. Delia ended up convincing her to buy a blue blouse and a light grey cardigan.

Walking through the mall Lydia noticed a small kiosk selling lots of knick-knack trinkets that were a combination of wholesome to strange and unusual. Grabbing Delia’s hand she dragged her over and spent the next twenty minutes looking at all the items. She ended up picking out a new collar for the kitten they had just rescued the other week. They had most of the stuff they needed for the kitten already but Lydia had never really had pets as a kid so she was ready to spoil the hell out of the kittens she affectionately named Cation in response to Delia urging Lydia to be more positive.

With bags in their hands after a full afternoon packed full of shopping, they started to head towards the exit and back to the car. Delia was attempting to coax more conversation out of the teenager asking about her life and what she was looking forward to with the new school year starting in the next month, “You’ve been around town quite a bit when you go for walks around downtown...have you seen any people worth mentioning?”

“I mean I saw a person trying to befriend a pidgeon by offering it french fries if that’s what you mean. That was pretty interesting.”

“No I mean like,” Delia pursed her lips trying to think of how best to ask Lydia the question, “Have you seen any cute boys? When I was your age I had like a crush of the week basically. Didn’t really date much until later in high school but there’s no harm in having any crushes.”

Lydia blushed trying not to think about the cute girl at the ice cream shop she had seen when she took Skye after babysitting last week. She looked to be around Lydia’s age but what are the odds that in a small town like this that she’d find any other people like her, “No not really.” She lied trying to deflect the conversation.

“Really? Because you seem to be blushing an awful lot for somebody that doesn’t have a crush.”

Looking around for any conversation started that could be an escape from this embarrassing topic Lydia briefly locked eyes with a boy she had seen around town before. He was a jerk, always yelling with his friends’ really annoying and sometimes degrading things about the people walking past him. He had tried flirting with Lydia before, she didn’t give much credit to it considering he had hit on the girl before her and the girl after her. He was the least bit smooth and for a fifteen-year-old, he was more vulgar than she had anticipated. She quickly darted her eyes away when he noticed her and gave her a cock-eyed smile and a wink. Lydia rolled her eyes and groaned at him.

Delia playfully nudged her shoulder. She didn’t understand why Lydia had been so dismissive of the boy, even if she didn’t like him he might have been someone she could have been friends with when she started school so she didn’t need to start from scratch. Delia played around with the thought that maybe Lydia did have a crush on him and was trying to be coy about it to get her off her back, “Hey! Is that who the mystery boy is? You shouldn’t have ignored him, that’s not polite!”

Without even thinking Lydia blurted out, “I’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual.”

The minute the words passed her lips Lydia froze, she hadn’t even planned on coming out to Delia, at least not yet, not this way. It had been so hard when she told her father she had no clue why it just slipped up in this conversation, she was usually so good at keeping it on the down-low, changing the language so people didn’t ask. She always thought that coming out was this long conversation with lots of hugs and tears, and though Lydia felt like she was going to cry for being so careless in how she told her, Delia didn’t really seem to have much of a reaction. She simply smiled, shrugged and said, “So...are there any cute girls around town worth mentioning.”

#lydia deetz #delia deetz #adam maitland #barbara maitland #charles deetz #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #presley ryan #sophia anne caruso #dana steingold #leslie kritzer #kerry butler #rob mcclure #alex brightman #beetlejuice #incorrect beetlejuice quotes #beetlejuice the musical #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fanfiction

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wherewindysurgeswend · 3 years

Text

deep heart’s core: chapter eight

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

taglist (please dm, send an ask or leave a comment if you’d like to be added or removed): @rememberedkisses @veiliza

The crossing of the channel was short, and for most of it, Kathleen could see the French coast. Her parents and siblings were below deck, but she hadn’t been able to keep herself away from the sea air. Larry and Margaret, whose family had happened to book passage on the same boat across the channel, were bickering as usual, but Kathleen couldn’t make out what it was about. Something stupid, now doubt. Kathleen could understand that. You didn’t grow up as the eldest of seven children without picking up the habit of arguing because you were bored.

The boat docked and the passengers began to disembark. Kathleen noticed a blonde woman waving frantically at whoever was to Kathleen’s right. Kathleen turned to see who that was and saw Larry, his face buried in his hands, looking supremely uncomfortable while Margaret laughed. These clues, along with Kathleen’s intuition, told her this must be the notorious Phyllis.

Kathleen edged closer to her friends to hear what they were saying. “— come on this trip in the first place?” Larry lamented. His voice was slightly muffled, as his face was still buried in his hands. Margaret just kept laughing.

“Peggy?” said Larry, suddenly lifting his head and turning to face his cousin.

“What?” she replied, trying to control her laughter.

“Will you throw me overboard now? I don’t think I can handle the rest of this trip.”

“What, and spend the rest of the trip babysitting Phyllis by myself? Nothing doing.” Larry groaned. “Kath? You’ll do it, won’t you?”

“Rather not have your blood on my hands, thanks.”

“It would be a mercy-killing! No jury would convict you!”

“Your logic is dubious at best.”

“Fine. Can you at least hand me my cigarette case, then? It’s in my coat pocket.” Kathleen rifled through the pockets of the grey wool overcoat Larry had draped haphazardly over his suitcase. She found the cigarette case and tossed it to Larry. “Don’t throw that,” exclaimed an indignant Larry, “it’s a family heirloom!”

“How can it be an heirloom? It’s monogrammed. Got your initials on it.”

“They’re my father’s initials too, genius.”

“I don’t think something that belonged to your father counts as an heirloom.”

“What are you, the heirloom police? Just hand it to me like a normal person, won’t you?” He opened the case, extracted a cigarette, and lit it. Margaret made a big show of waving her hand in front of her face to waft away the smoke. “You know, doing that doesn’t make me want to quit smoking any more, Peggy. If anything it makes me want to keep doing it if only because it clearly annoys you so much.”

“So you’d ruin your lungs just to get a rise out of me?” “Peggy, the twenty-one years we’ve known each other should have taught you that I would do anything to get a rise out of you.” Margaret muttered something under her breath. Larry opened his mouth as if to say something, but the crowd of passengers started moving toward the exit and he had no choice but to pick up his suitcase and move with them. Kathleen hung back to wait for her family, waving goodbye to Larry and Margaret.

“All right, Kath?” Florence asked when she caught up to her daughter, “sorry to be leaving your friends?”

“Not so much. They’ll be in Paris, too, after all. I’ve got the address of their hotel.” Florence nodded. “Well, at least one person will be having a good time on this stupid trip,” Kathleen’s brother Joseph muttered. Florence gave him a disapproving look. “Nobody forced you to come,” she pointed out. “You kind of did,” said Kathleen, “he’s twelve. Were you really going to let him stay at home alone?” Florence chose not to continue the conversation, opting instead to ask Kathleen if she had put any more thought into continuing her studies. Kathleen gave her usual answer, mumbling a few sentences about how she had looked into it but she hadn’t been able to find a course of study that really appealed to her. She was saved from having to say anything else by the arrival of her father and the rest of her siblings.

As soon as they were off the boat, Margaret was engulfed in a fur-coated, heavily perfumed hug. The whole affair was so disorienting that it took Margaret longer than it should have to realize that this was Phyllis and not some stranger. It took her even longer to realize that Phyllis was talking to her. “... just bored out of my skull,” Phyllis was saying, “there’s absolutely no-one of interest here! You would think Paris would be fascinating but it’s dull as dishwater. I’m so glad you’re here, Peggy. Maybe now we can have some fun instead of just sitting around at the hotel bar every night.” Margaret couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say, so she just smiled weakly. “Hello, Phyllis,” Larry said drily.

“Larry! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” said Phyllis. The words were friendly, but the tone with which Phyllis said them was decidedly not. Margaret had never been able to extract from Larry why their engagement had ended, but she could tell it hadn’t been on good terms. Phyllis threw her arms around Larry’s neck, and Margaret could see her lips moving as she whispered something in his ear, but she was too far away to hear.

The train to Paris was just like Phyllis had described her time in France: dull as dishwater. Phyllis tried to make conversation, and Margaret really did try to keep up, but everything Phyllis said, through no fault of her own, seemed so pointless. Larry nudged her with his elbow. “Five-letter word for ‘strained’?” he asked.

“Tense.”

“Thanks.”

“Doing crosswords?” Phyllis asked, a little coldly (or so Margaret thought). Larry nodded.

“Yes. Say, Phyllis, have you got a seven-letter word for ‘hide’?”

“Conceal. So, what have you two been up to since we’ve seen each other? I know Peggy is getting married, when is that happening?”

“Next spring.”

“Am I invited to the wedding?”

“Of course.” Margaret couldn’t see Larry’s face, but she could tell he was rolling his eyes.

“And who are your bridesmaids?”

“Mother chose them,” Margaret mumbled, “I wanted Amanda Habersham for my matron of honour but grandmother doesn’t like her, so my cousin Bernice – I don’t know if you know her, she’s my mother’s brother’s daughter – is going to be maid of honour. She’s only seventeen so it’s all very exciting for her.” Phyllis nodded.

“Shame I didn’t know about the wedding sooner, I could have done it.”

“I don’t think mother would have –” Phyllis laughed, somewhat humorlessly. She took a cigarette case out of her purse, extracted a cigarette, and raised it to her lips. “Got a light?” she asked Larry. He tossed her a matchbook without looking up from his crossword puzzle. “Thanks,” said Phyllis, lighting the cigarette. She turned back to Margaret. “That’s true. Your mother doesn’t like me, does she?” Margaret didn’t know what to say to that.

“Why do you say that?” was all she could manage. Phyllis took a drag from her cigarette and looked straight at Margaret. “No use being polite. She doesn’t like me. Mothers usually don’t, though, so I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Margaret said quietly. Larry scoffed.

“Cut the shit, Peggy, you know it’s true. You’ve heard aunt Doreen talk about Phyllis.”

“Same old Larry,” said Phyllis, “still about as subtle as a battle-axe. You haven’t changed at all.”

“Same old Phyllis,” said Larry, refusing to look up from his crossword, “all the kindness and understanding of a tarantula.”

“You know what, Larry? I’m glad you never change. Gives me a sense of stability in life. You’re like a dime-novel plot: cheap, vulgar, and above all, predictable.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be cruel,” said Larry absently, “I draw the line at being called cheap and vulgar. I may be predictable, but I have class. Peggy, have you got an eight-letter word for ‘double-dealing’?”

“Deceitful.”

“Interesting word for you to be using, Larry,” said Phyllis innocently.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” said Larry without looking at her.

“Oh, you know,” Phyllis continued sweetly, “just that you’re no stranger to that kind of thing.”

“Nor are you, Phyllis,” Larry shot back, finally meeting her gaze, “or have you forgotten what happened in London the summer we were engaged? Because if I remember correctly, you –”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Margaret interrupted, “can’t you two keep it together? It’s been less than an hour since we arrived! I know you can’t stand each other, and believe me, I don’t like this any better than you do. But can you at least pretend you don’t hate each other’s guts?” Larry and Phyllis glared at each other and said nothing. Margaret put one hand on Larry’s shoulder and leaned over to rest the other on Phyllis’s forearm. “Come on, let’s try to make this bearable, shall we?” Neither Larry nor Phyllis said anything.

“Oh, come on,” said an exasperated Margaret, “can’t you just be civil for once? You’re acting like children.” Larry and Phyllis both muttered something that sounded like acquiescence, and Margaret decided not to press the issue. At this point, just stopping them from ripping each other’s heads off was an incredible feat.

#for any of y'all who were curious abt phyllis... here she is #deep heart's core #writeblr #my writing

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artdaily7 · 4 years

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Marriage by Marianne Moore

This institution, perhaps one should say enterprise out of respect for which one says one need not change one's mind about a thing one has believed in, requiring public promises of one's intention to fulfill a private obligation: I wonder what Adam and Eve think of it by this time, this firegilt steel alive with goldenness; how bright it shows -- "of circular traditions and impostures, committing many spoils," requiring all one's criminal ingenuity to avoid! Psychology which explains everything explains nothing and we are still in doubt. Eve: beautiful woman -- I have seen her when she was so handsome she gave me a start, able to write simultaneously in three languages -- English, German and French and talk in the meantime; equally positive in demanding a commotion and in stipulating quiet: "I should like to be alone;" to which the visitor replies, "I should like to be alone; why not be alone together?" Below the incandescent stars below the incandescent fruit, the strange experience of beauty; its existence is too much; it tears one to pieces and each fresh wave of consciousness is poison. "See her, see her in this common world," the central flaw in that first crystal-fine experiment, this amalgamation which can never be more than an interesting possibility, describing it as "that strange paradise unlike flesh, gold, or stately buildings, the choicest piece of my life: the heart rising in its estate of peace as a boat rises with the rising of the water;" constrained in speaking of the serpent -- that shed snakeskin in the history of politeness not to be returned to again -- that invaluable accident exonerating Adam. And he has beauty also; it's distressing -- the O thou to whom, from whom, without whom nothing -- Adam; "something feline, something colubrine" -- how true! a crouching mythological monster in that Persian miniature of emerald mines, raw silk -- ivory white, snow white, oyster white and six others -- that paddock full of leopards and giraffes -- long lemonyellow bodies sown with trapezoids of blue. Alive with words, vibrating like a cymbal touched before it has been struck, he has prophesied correctly -- the industrious waterfall, "the speedy stream which violently bears all before it, at one time silent as the air and now as powerful as the wind." "Treading chasms on the uncertain footing of a spear," forgetting that there is in woman a quality of mind which is an instinctive manifestation is unsafe, he goes on speaking in a formal, customary strain of "past states," the present state, seals, promises, the evil one suffered, the good one enjoys, hell, heaven, everything convenient to promote one's joy." There is in him a state of mind by force of which, perceiving what it was not intended that he should, "he experiences a solemn joy in seeing that he has become an idol." Plagued by the nightingale in the new leaves, with its silence -- not its silence but its silences, he says of it: "It clothes me with a shirt of fire." "He dares not clap his hands to make it go on lest it should fly off; if he does nothing, it will sleep; if he cries out, it will not understand." Unnerved by the nightingale and dazzled by the apple, impelled by "the illusion of a fire effectual to extinguish fire," compared with which the shining of the earth is but deformity -- a fire "as high as deep as bright as broad as long as life itself," he stumbles over marriage, "a very trivial object indeed" to have destroyed the attitude in which he stood -- the ease of the philosopher unfathered by a woman. Unhelpful Hymen! "a kind of overgrown cupid" reduced to insignificance by the mechanical advertising parading as involuntary comment, by that experiment of Adam's with ways out but no way in -- the ritual of marriage, augmenting all its lavishness; its fiddle-head ferns, lotus flowers, opuntias, white dromedaries, its hippopotamus -- nose and mouth combined in one magnificent hopper, "the crested screamer -- that huge bird almost a lizard," its snake and the potent apple. He tells us that "for love that will gaze an eagle blind, that is like a Hercules climbing the trees in the garden of the Hesperides, from forty-five to seventy is the best age," commending it as a fine art, as an experiment, a duty or as merely recreation. One must not call him ruffian nor friction a calamity -- the fight to be affectionate: "no truth can be fully known until it has been tried by the tooth of disputation." The blue panther with black eyes, the basalt panther with blue eyes, entirely graceful -- one must give them the path -- the black obsidian Diana who "darkeneth her countenance as a bear doth, causing her husband to sigh," the spiked hand that has an affection for one and proves it to the bone, impatient to assure you that impatience is the mark of independence not of bondage. "Married people often look that way" -- "seldom and cold, up and down, mixed and malarial with a good day and bad." "When do we feed?" We occidentals are so unemotional, we quarrel as we feed; one's self is quite lost, the irony preserved in "the Ahasuerus tête à tête banquet" with its "good monster, lead the way," with little laughter and munificence of humor in that quixotic atmosphere of frankness in which "Four o'clock does not exist but at five o'clock the ladies in their imperious humility are ready to receive you"; in which experience attests that men have power and sometimes one is made to feel it. He says, "what monarch would not blush to have a wife with hair like a shaving-brush? The fact of woman is not `the sound of the flute but every poison.'" She says, "`Men are monopolists of stars, garters, buttons and other shining baubles' -- unfit to be the guardians of another person's happiness." He says, "These mummies must be handled carefully -- `the crumbs from a lion's meal, a couple of shins and the bit of an ear'; turn to the letter M and you will find that `a wife is a coffin,' that severe object with the pleasing geometry stipulating space and not people, refusing to be buried and uniquely disappointing, revengefully wrought in the attitude of an adoring child to a distinguished parent." She says, "This butterfly, this waterfly, this nomad that has `proposed to settle on my hand for life.' -- What can one do with it? There must have been more time in Shakespeare's day to sit and watch a play. You know so many artists are fools." He says, "You know so many fools who are not artists." The fact forgot that "some have merely rights while some have obligations," he loves himself so much, he can permit himself no rival in that love. She loves herself so much, she cannot see herself enough -- a statuette of ivory on ivory, the logical last touch to an expansive splendor earned as wages for work done: one is not rich but poor when one can always seem so right. What can one do for them -- these savages condemned to disaffect all those who are not visionaries alert to undertake the silly task of making people noble? This model of petrine fidelity who "leaves her peaceful husband only because she has seen enough of him" -- that orator reminding you, "I am yours to command." "Everything to do with love is mystery; it is more than a day's work to investigate this science." One sees that it is rare -- that striking grasp of opposites opposed each to the other, not to unity, which in cycloid inclusiveness has dwarfed the demonstration of Columbus with the egg -- a triumph of simplicity -- that charitive Euroclydon of frightening disinterestedness which the world hates, admitting:

"I am such a cow, if I had a sorrow, I should feel it a long time; I am not one of those who have a great sorrow in the morning and a great joy at noon;" which says: "I have encountered it among those unpretentious protegés of wisdom, where seeming to parade as the debater and the Roman, the statesmanship of an archaic Daniel Webster persists to their simplicity of temper as the essence of the matter:

`Liberty and union now and forever;'

the book on the writing-table; the hand in the breast-pocket."

Winslow Homer 1874 Moonlight, oil on canvas, PC

#Winslow Homer #Moonlight #Marriage #Moore #Art #Poetry #Fine Arts #Painting #Poems #Homer #Marianne Moore

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angelspigeon · 5 years

Note

Fic: Lea and Isa have been making semi-frequent trips to Dumbo's homeworld for reasons and one day Mr Stork pays them a visit to deliver twins (a boy and a girl). It turns out they were with each other enough while there that they managed to trigger the world's reproductive mechanisms that rely on storks instead of pregnancy.

Hi!!!

Thank you for your ask!! I got carried away with idea for that so thank you very much!! I hope it will please you!!

And OMFG, The Stork’s song is different in french than english, listened it in english to write this and… it’s so creepy?!

PS: that thing with “Fic:” at the beginning actually help me to know what you want, because sometimes I’m a bit hesitant!!

/ ! \ I let fall my angst flacon on this so beware!!

Words : 3 304

Door to AO3 => | °|

He never warned them…

Lea was so mad.

If he could… Yes, he could. He even should do it! He should kill Even onceagain. Forever, this time. Hunt him down until he disappeared and no one wouldever get him memorized.

Even should have warned them…

The Replicas were awesome but they were ephemeras… Forsix beautiful months, Roxas and Xion were with them and it was awesome, theyplayed, chatted; he took care of them and they shone his path. It even wasbecause of Xion that he and Isa were together… She had organized everything,she had pushed them to declare to each other… Every day, they could be togetherbecause of them.

And the Replicas were ephemeras.

All remained were memories…

Just memories… and he hated that.

Yes, he wanted to live in everyone memories, he wantedto be immortal and he kept saying ‘got it memorized’ but in fact… he hated whenpeople were just memories for him. He wanted more…

But he couldn’t have more.

They were dead.

Vanished forever.

Sora wasn’t there. So where their Hearts went? And howmuch time they would have to do it? How much time the next Replicas will last.How often they could do that and how much this would hurt Roxas and Xion?

Hurt him?

And worst…

Hurt Isa.

He could deal with his pain but he couldn’t deal withIsa’s pain because he loved him so much… The worst was the fact that Isa alwaystried to hide everything. At first, he joined him often in the shower becausehe knew it was there he let himself cry and wanted to cheer him up and then… herealized he needed to let him that room. Let him be sad… Especially becausethis was, after, allowing him to be happier. Act happier, at least…

Isa was the first to propose they should change theirmind, try not to think about that. And, according to Isa it helped to work, notto think. For those exact reasons, Lea asked for work to Yen Sid. Now, he wasall in for travelling the Worlds, as long as he was with the love of his life.Before, he hesitated or often refused because there were his children… They hadto go school, to be correctly surrounded… Yes, sometimes he had to left formission or he would bring them with him but now…

All of this was shattered and it was weird for him toleave for another World…

Though he had asked to Yen Sid for the job, it wasMinnie who offered them the World to go.

Circus Paradise.

With a past like theirs, Lea and Isa knew a lot ofWorld but this one was one of those they never went in. It wasn’t exactly thekind of universe where you could find anything interesting. Not for their plansback the time, at least.

And yet… Now that they were stepping here, he couldfeel the Darkness around. This World was overwhelmed by it…

“Say… Isa?”

Isa looked up toward his lover who just pronouncedthose words.

“You think Minnie sent us her because there is so muchwork here?”

“I think so too,” Isa replied. “I can’t believe wenever come here before.”

“Yeah. I think Roxa… I… I mean, forget.”

Isa unfolded his arms and moved toward him, taking hishands tenderly.

“You don’t have to hide your emotions and to force toforget them or anything about them… They would be happy if you kept themmemorized forever.”

“I know, I know… But it’s hard. Had to realize we willnever see them again…”

Isa didn’t know what he could reply to it.

He knew the struggle. He knew the oppressing feeling.Wanting to talk all the days about the babies but also being afraid because thefeeling was the only thing they would have. They will never welcome themanymore with big smiles. They would never play again with them. All of thisswirled in Lea’s mind, again and again…

“Do you think you can tell me what you wanted to say?”Isa wondered in a soft tone.

“Roxas told me… when he appeared, he could remembersome distant things about Sora. About him being with someone from this World. Ithink I saw him in Castle Oblivion? It’s an Elephant! Who flies.”

If they weren’t used to so many things absolutelyweird, Isa could have looked at him as if he was mad.

But he had seen so worst things.

“Do you want to see the flying elephant?”

“Why not?”

If this could cheer Lea’s up. And they could find thesource of Darkness while looking for Dumbo, for a grasp of their memories…

When they arrived in the Circus, it was obvious theWorld was corrupted. People awaited for the animals to be spectacular and whenthey aren’t, they were upset and showed it. Plus, the capitalism was a bigthing here. The first Human they had met was a Ringmaster who always wanted tohave more spectacles. Who asked so much more from his beasts. Too much.

Way too much.

They knew they needed to come back, again and again.Though, Isa didn’t think he could ease such a behavior.

Lea had some proposition to calm that but maybe it wasjust too much? It was pushing away a problem. The whole World seemed to livewith another range of priorities…

That was the reason why they had asked Minnie, and YenSid, if they could keep taking care of the World.

That would keep them busy.

Except Dumbo who could vaguely be attached to Roxas,all of this was new. They could think about other things, they could changetheir mind and, maybe, live through that. Until those bad memories becomenothing more than this and they could live another live. A new live, with newmemories. Brighter memories…

Lea and Isa were very upset by the lose they had, butthey weren’t the only one. Pence, Hayner and Olette were their best friends. Notfor long but… it had been an important and overwhelming relationship.

So, it was normal they both took care of theteenagers. Often, they invited them over and organized movie night or big food.Sometimes both at once. They got ice cream or went on restaurant. Olette workedas a waitress there so sometimes, they come on the restaurant to give her bigtip.

Sometimes, it was hard for the couple to be supportiveover the teenagers because it reminded their children… Not only because theywere their friend but also because it was like caring for them. Thought theyhad all their parents and parents taking care of them. Mostly. Sometimes, itwas harder for Hayner’s parents but he was the oldest child of a very big family.And on this, Lea having grown up in such family, he could talk with him andhelped him through the feeling to not care and struggling with money.

This evening, they had prepared a movie night withfood ordered from a restaurant. It was a lot of little beignet, noodles andseafood but it missed vegetables so Isa was preparing a salad with Olette.

The lady always did her best and always smiled. Nomatter what.

“Olette?” Isa asked.

In the other room Lea was dressing the coffee tablewhile Pence prepared the movies. Hayner was calling at home but he willcertainly help soon enough. He had such a kind heart…

“Yes, Sir Sinclair?”

“You can call me by my name,” he said with a softtone.

She smiled, nodding.

“I wondered how you felt. You’re always smiling…”

She continued to smile.

“I know what you mean, Isa, I do… Because Hayner and Pence had so much to do… I need tostay strong for them!”

“I know the feeling. But if you need to talk…”

“Yeah… When it’s really hard, I’m talking to myboyfriend but… I feel like I’m annoying,” she laughed nervously, taking the bigspoons to put them in the salad plate.

“If ever you feel like it, you can talk to me. Youwill not annoy me. And I’m sure you’re not annoying to your boyfriend neither.”

“He would say the same but I will always doubt,” shesighed. “But it’s the same for you, Isa! If you need to talk… Seifer would behappy to listen!” she joked. “I meant me, of course. You can talk to me, Isa.”

“It’s sweet from you.”

“From you too!” she smiled.

Isa could understand it was hard for her to stop. It washard for him to stop pretend too. He pretended to protect Lea, to protect theteenagers. He pretended again and again and… well, Olette was sweet but hedoubted he could stop pretend since she was still so young. He couldn’t lay onher. It was so wrong to him…

So he kept pretend and just allow himself to say thetruth to Lea once in a while. As long as Olette felt better, it would be betterin his opinion…

Weeks and weeks passed, becoming months and months…

Lea and Isa worked mostly with Circus Paradise, whichLea had secretly called Darkness Paradise because the amount of filthy peoplehere was astonishing, and so they came very often here. Sometimes for days.

Thought time had passed and their wounds were a bithealed, they were still deeply hurt. They still thought about Roxas and Xion butthe biggest difference was that they didn’t cry anymore. Sometimes, theyremembered and it was hard; often they talked about them and they still haven’tthrow away nothing belonging to them. The worst was when they found belongingsof them where they shouldn’t. There, the memories were unbearable…

Pence, Hayner and Olette started to feel better soon. Especiallybecause they had a lot to do. After ten months, being now seventeen for most ofthem, they had their future to prepare. But they still could count on Lea andIsa every time they needed it.

And as that Circus-slash-Darkness paradise… Isa and Leastarted to believe they will have to work here forever. And Isa still thoughtthe Organization XIII missed an opportunity with such a World. He wondered ifthey would have received their Hearts, or got even more fooled, if they hadstepped in this World earlier?

In fact… Lea and Isa had often thought about livinghere… It would be easier. In a lot of ways. No more suffer with that house theyused to share with Roxas and Xion. No more suffer with that World meaning somuch for them. Often, they had talked about coming back to Radiant Garden butthey were most of their time in this World so why not just staying here?

“Mr. Sinclair?! Mr. Sinclair?!”

The voice came from above.

From the sky.

Lea frowned. They had visited lot of Worlds. Some withmagic, others with talking animals and certain with technology beyond theirunderstanding but usually they could tell what World was what. They have beenenough in this World to never have to deal with anything having a voice comingfrom above. Well… there were a lot of Circus’ artists where they tried tochange things most of the time but none of them knew Lea’s last name?

“Mr. Sinclair!!”

Lea’s eyes widened when he saw a Stork appear. He washolding two bags. Two bags he put down on the floor in front of them. He waswearing a blue delivering outfit and a red cap. Immediately, he took a bluediary from his pocket and his wings started to look through the pages.

The bags just seemed to be bags full of dirty clothes.And Lea had no idea why anyone would want them to have them.

As for the Stork talking to them… Okay, it was a bitstrange in this World but they werefar away for worrying for such things happening in their live.

“Here are two babies with eyes of blue straight fromheaven to you. Straight from heaven up above here are two babies for you tolove.”

“Excuse me?” Lea said with a broken voice. “Is this ajoke?!” he groaned.

“For Lea?” Isa asked. “Are you sure not to have made amistake?”

“For Mr. Sinclair and second Mr. Sinclair!” the Storkreplied.

Isa frowned.

The Stork seemed annoyed and looked through the pagesof a pink diary.

“You aren’t second Mr. Sinclair.”

“Kind off, I am,” he replied.

Isa always used his best friend and lover’s last namebecause he hated his.

“Ah! Sign here please,” the Stork said, holding out thediary to him.

“For those babies?” Isa asked.

He took the diary and the pencil handed to him.

“Yes! They are your babies,” the Stork smiled.

“That’s ridicule,” Lea said. “Why would you hand usbabies?!”

“Because they are yours,” the bird insisted. “Please,sign.”

Isa was as doubtful as his lover but he signed thepaper. What could they do anyway? What wouldhappen to the babies if they didn’t do it?

The Stork took a whistle in his cap and blew in. “HappyBirthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Roxas and Xion.Happy Birthday tooooooooooo…”

The Stork never finished his sentence because suddenlya big weapon appeared in front of his nose.

Or two.

“What did you say?”

Isa cold voice made the bird shook. He tried to clearhis throat but, suddenly, it was very difficult.

“It’s the name I received.”

“Who gave you that?” Lea asked.

“It’s confidential. But they are your babies. And yousigned so…”

The Stork quickly moved away and in a matter ofseconds, he flew away. Lea threw his Keyblade on the bird that moved away in aglimpse and disappeared in the clouds.

Isa tried to calm his rage, making vanish his Claymore.

He crouched next to the bundle and, his fingers stillshaking with anger, he opened one of them. He saw a baby girl. With black hairand blue eyes like you didn’t see often. Powerful blue. He opened the secondbag as Lea let the flames disappear around him. When the Keyblade came back inhis hand, then vanished, he looked down to see that baby with those veryspecial blond-gingery hairs. And those same blue hairs.

“Do you think it’s possible…” Isa whispered.

He didn’t want to believe this. This looked so insane.Yes, those babies could have been Roxas and Xion but it appeared as a very badjoke to him.

This World was surrounded with Darkness after all…

“What do we do?” Isa wondered.

“What do you want to do?” Lea asked, still confuse.

Isa stared the two babies, still on the floor… What hewanted to do…

“Storks deliver babies. That’s a common believe andwhat people said to their children…”

“Didn’t you believe that until your sixteen years old?”Lea smiled.

He had a little girl sleeping in his arms and maybethat was the only thing saving him from the anger of Ienzo. Certainly not justhis smile. Especially if he was giving him such a cold look despite the coldcoffee in the mug he was holding.

“But, I was saying, in this World, it’s not a believe.It’s a fact. Babies only come when they are delivered by Storks.” Ienzo turnedtoward Aeleus taking one of the books he was holding for him. “If I am right,in this World, the only thing you need is to wish it.” He put down the mug toturn the pages. “And sometimes, it’s not even needed.”

“A bit like in Radiant Garden, right?! Never mommawanted me!” Lea smiled.

“Who wouldn’t want you?” Isa asked, holding the otherbaby.

The little Roxas was waked up and he moved his handsin the blue thread. Isa rocked him slowly.

Lea approached Isa to steal him a soft kiss, pressinghis forehead against his. The hand not holding the baby caressing the cheekbefore he caressed Roxas’ tiny hairs. He really wanted that to be possible. Butwhy would it be?

How could they be Roxas and Xion?

“How could they be Roxas and Xion?” he asked to Ienzo.

“Roxas and Xion weren’t normal being. They were livingHearts. It’s highly possible that, when their bodies died, their Hearts wentsomewhere and waited a body to come back. You went to Circus Paradise so many timesthat the Stork delivery way was started and created babies for you. Or thatXion and Roxas managed to create it for both of you.”

“You think they are truly Roxas and Xion?” Lea asked.

“I think… it would be too strange if this was just acoincidence,” Ienzo replied.

Lea looked down to Xion in his arms. He wanted tobelieve it so hard but he didn’t want to hurt this baby if ever he awaited hisXion and she was different. He didn’t want to betray Xion memories if this babywasn’t the one he believed.

Same for Roxas, of course.

“I believe Ienzo, Lea,” Isa said. “Roxas and Xion’sHearts always echoed with you. They love you and you love them. They came backonce from somewhere they weren’t supposed to come back. They would be able tocome back a second time.”

He held the baby Roxas a bit tighter against hisHeart. The toddler let out a soft sound and his second tiny hand moved to hisHeart, as if he really attached importance to the beat he could hear there…

Isa used his elbow to push the door of his house, hisHeart beating stupidly fast in his chest. He glanced at the baby in his lover’sarms.

“Xion, Roxas… you’re finally back home,” he muttered.

“I will never let them leave home!” Lea said, kissingXion’s little forehead.

She moved in her sleep and rolled against his chest.

Isa smiled tenderly but his dear soulmate wasn’t thatwrong. Lea had lost Roxas and Xion two times… The adage said never two withoutthree but he wouldn’t allow this third to happen!

He went in the living room with Lea and…

“SURPRISE!!!!”

Xion woke up immediately and cried. Roxas cried too.

“Hm… oops?” Hayner said.

“It was his idea!” Pence and Olette said, immediately,showing their dear friends.

“Ugh… thank you,” Hayner groaned. “Uh… SirBlue-Sinclair can you put down the weapon?”

Rocking Roxas with one arm, Isa was using the secondto brandish his Claymore. Hearing a sound he didn’t expect in his living roomwhere it shouldn’t have been one had called his defend mechanism…

But it was just the Twilight Gang.

“Who warned you?” Lea asked.

“Ienzo!” Pence replied.

“Of course Ienzo…” Lea smiled slightly. “I don’t evenknow why I didn’t think about it…”

Olette approached Isa to see Roxas in his arms. A quickglance let her be sure it was him. The eyes, the hairs… the little expressionon his round face as he saw her. Or maybe she just hoped he recognized her?

“Ah! Look at you Roxas. Now I’m your Auntie Olette!!As if you could escape our love!” she smiled.

“Auntie?” Lea asked, as he let Hayner have Xion.

His hands were ready to catch the baby if he had tobut Hayner could handle her easily. She was still slightly crying but as Leacaressed her hairs, she seemed to calm herself.

“Oh… uh, sorry…” she said.

“Yeah, you can be,” Lea replied. “It’s obvious you’retheir Godmother!! And Pence and Hayner are both their Godfather!”

Olette blinked but then smiled widely.

“I accept!!”

“Me too!!” Pence added.

“Yeah, wouldn’t pass it!!” Hayner finished with a bigsmile.

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tidustargaryen · 5 years

Video

youtube

Pourquoi la Saison 8 de Game of Thrones est Décevante

Why the Game of Thrones season 8 is disappointing

The video is in French but I really like the analysis of the writing, or the bad writing rather, of the showrunners, so I will translate the text as best as I can. Some French expressions do not exist in English, and vice versa, so I hope everything will make sense.

All that is in parenthesis and italics will be my thoughts on what he said in the video, all that is between ** and italics will be interesting passages during the video that accompanies his text.

It's long, sorrynotsorry :p

------------------------------

There was a lot of hope for this season 8, the final season of the biggest series of the moment. And necessarily who says hope, said disappointment, but this disappointment it does not come out of nowhere. It's not just a spectator affair not happy because they did not have the end they wanted. Yes the season has undeniable qualities, whether in terms of production, photography, music or special effects that are just impressive. But also suffers from a lack of writing, and it is because of these faults that some of the spectators did not so much hang *Benioff who said "Dany kinda forgot the iron fleet ..." *

So these different writing problems can be grouped into four points:

I - Change of the writing process

The last seasons of GoT are not written in the same way as the first seasons that followed the plot of the books, there is a thread on twitter that explains that pretty well, so I'll summarize it and add some examples.

To put it simply, there are two methods for writing stories, one is the “Plotters” and and the other is the “Pantsers". Each of that methods had its advantages but also its disadvantages that the authors tries to regulate during the rewriting.

The “Plotters” (like J.K. Rowling) write a detailed story plan in advance, so they have more ability to write effective storylines, but their characters can sometimes be bland and puppet of the plot, we can say that the plot is the engine of the characters.

The "Pantsers" discover the story as they write it, wondering how such a character would react to such situation. They are therefore easier to write realistic characters. The flaw of this method is that sometimes the characters can sometimes become entangled in sinuous intrigues, and the author may find it difficult to relate all of this to a satisfactory conclusion. We can say that the characters are the engine of the plot.

GRRM is an excellent "pantser", according to him, write a story is like cultivating a garden, he plants seeds of characters and lets them grow, and that's why each plot, each surprise, is so effective, everything that happens to the characters is the consequence of their past choices. The problem is that, his garden gradually escape him, and the author is struggling to get by to write the rest, it is difficult to take some characters where they should be for the rest of the history. He often gives the example of Daenerys who is stuck in Meereen, and G.R.R.M does not want to use abrupt or forced resolution to have her go to Westeros.

But let's go back to the show, for the last two seasons the showrunners did not follow the method of Martin, who did not succeed them anyway, and they acted in plotters, they gave themselves 13 episodes to conclude the series and they thought about the different elements and the strong moments that they wanted to integrate, where they want the characters to finish, what did the audience want to see, how to surprise them, etc. They did a sort of end "specifications" for the show, for example, for season 8:

- Arya kills the Night King

- Daenerys goes crazy

- Jon kills Daenerys

- Bran becomes King

It only remains to connect all this. So they took the characters where they wanted them to be, physically and emotionally, the problem is that this change in writing process is not without consequences and it is felt for the viewer.

In the first seasons, the characters created their own destiny, their actions seemed logical, true to their character, and they suffered the consequences of their actions. But in these last two seasons, instead of being the engines of the plot the characters have become the puppets of the showrunners, and that's why some characters seem to be only the shadow of themselves *Baelish trial extract*, it's pretty visible with Jon Snow who has clearly become a "duck" in the last season. But where it is most striking is with the character of Tyrion, who has lost all his genius and who has become the worst advisor in the world.

List of rotion tips from Tyrion:

- Make peace with slave cities

- Do not attack KL directly

- Attack by surprise Casterly Rock

- Go get a wight beyond the wall

- Etc ..

Consequences :

Loss of soldiers, cities, allies and a dragon.

But really the worst advisor, he only advised bullshits. Just look at the Tyrion of the first seasons for a few minutes to instantly see the difference.

Generally speaking, when "intelligent" characters are in fact more stupid than spectators, it is because there is a concern for writing. * from an interview with Tyrion saying "they are in a crypt, no one has thought of that, he can revive the dead, and they put women and children in a crypt! With all the corpses! So ... Tyrion is intelligent, but not so smart as that I suppose. "

But back to our favorite "plotters" to reach the main point of the plot that was the transformation of Daenerys into "Mad Queen", Daenerys had to be greatly weakened, and at the end of season 6, when she comes to Westeros, she is all-powerful with her three dragons, her armies, and her allies, and so she and all the characters around her are "forced" to make unusually bad decisions, though Daenerys does, she listens her advisors or not, it ends very badly for her.

There was no winning scenario for Daenerys.

In the level of debility of the characters, the season 7 also offered us a magnificent expedition beyond the wall, with a ridiculous motivation, in order to take a wight to Cersei to prove to her the existence of the threat, the real reason for all this was to offer a dragon to the Night King (and also for the fanservice), because the plot needed the Wight Walkers to cross the wall, and besides, Cersei had nothing to do with it, so it was totally useless (But this bring beautiful pictures).

And what the series shows us is that she was quite right to not care (lol) because they did not need her at all, the union of all men ( Jon speech) all this, useless. Just a little dagger well placed ...

II - Show > Logic

The second annoying point of this season is that logic and consistency are often sacrificed in the name of the show and the surprise. For example, at the military strategy level we have seen a lot of debility, whether it is to put the soldiers in front of the walls, and the catapults in front of the soldiers, or the front charge of the Dothraki against the Army Of The Dead, it’s true that it was pretty plans ... Another choice that, in my opinion, was made to shock and be spectacular, it is the burning of the city of KL by Daenerys. The problem is not the madness of Daenerys, besides I think it's a very good idea in terms of plot and character (not to me ... already done => Cersei), no problem is the degrees of this madness and it is that it is very sudden, the tumble goes very fast and especially very far, it almost seems that it is a switch in mode On / Off *genes targaryen: Off / On *

Let's get back to her character, what we learned from her in all these seasons is that she is totally ruthless to her enemies (like many other characters ...), but she is is also merciful to the innocent (much less other characters are ... lol) her character could be summed up in that. And so in KL, once the city surrenders, she begins to slaughter innocent people, whereas she does not kill them before the bells ring. So, if I understood correctly, it's the fact that they surrender to make her want to kill everyone ... Logic. Even her father, the Mad King, had a much better motive for burning the city, KL was being sacked by Tywin's army and so the Mad King had lost the war, destroying was the desperate gesture of a king who had already lost everything and did not want to leave anything to his enemies (the logical reaction that should have had Cersei ...) and in addition he thought to be reborn as a dragon so there was a gain for him, while for Daenerys, there is no gain for her, there is no reason to slaughter the population, except to make a beautiful demonstration of special effects (and push people to hate her and give a reason to kill her). There was, however, a way to have her massacre innocent while keeping the consistency of the character. Daenerys could have simply refused the surrender and rushed to the Red Keep to kill Cersei, and too bad for the innocents inside, in clear, that she forgets her mercy to punish Cersei *without burning the whole city* that would have been consistent. You may think I'm quibbling, but for me it's important that the characters are treated well.

III - Realism

The third fault of this writing that I would like to raise is a change in the internal logic of the series. We often hear GoT is a series that wants to surprise the viewer, and shock, as we have seen with the execution of Ned Stark, the main character of season 1. Yet if we dig a little, the desire to the saga has never been to surprise, to jostle the tropes of fantasy yes, but not to surprise in itself. In the first seasons, those that followed the books, the surprise was just a consequence of the internal logic of this universe, realism. In the early seasons there was a cold realism, a political realism, *George: "Art must reflect life"* As I said earlier, when a character made a mistake, he paid the consequences *Robb and the red wedding* have far-reaching consequences, and that's what surprised the viewer because it's something we're not used to seeing. In the fantasy stories, we have been used to the fact that the moral hero is untouchable, invulnerable, and even when everything seems lost, he was always saved at the last moment (as in season 8 for Arya and Jon, plot armor very strong) but in GoT, it did not work like that (Except in season 8 lol except for Dany: '() each action had its consequences, and even for the most moral of all heroes, the scenario never came to their rescue, and that's what works, and what was even better was that the events that surprised us so much at the time, we could have seen them coming, we should have seen them come even, so much they were a logical consequence of what had happened. *Red Wedding extract*

In the first seasons, the surprise was a consequence of the realism whereas in season 8 the surprise is a consequence of ... of ... the surprise ...

*Dany kinda forgot the iron fleet ..*

This is the choice made by the showrunners, they want to surprise the audience, shock them, make the series unpredictable, even if the logic and consistency suffers, but something surprising is not necessarily good (now they know it lol but it's too late for GoT fans ...) all events must be logical and coherent with the characters, and this realism that was part of the identity of the first seasons of GoT what it becomes in season 8? Well it was a little slaughtered ...

We have seen characters in impossible situations, for example during the battle of Winterfell, on many levels it seems that the characters are literally overwhelmed by the army of the dead and yet they get along ... no doubt thanks with their armor +8 in scenarium. It's as if these situations did not really have consequences (some shots, the characters are overwhelmed and get out while Jorah and Dany have a lot fewer deads than the others who attack them and yet Jorah dies ???? ???) *Jon overwhelm by the dead, the plan just after show him attack the dead, but there are far fewer around him than before ....* And it's the same for Daenerys's army, which is slaughtered during the first charge. All the lights of the Arakhs go out, but in the end, that's fine, we're taught in the following episode that only the half of the manpower was destroyed, coherence level ...

And then the burial of realism comes with the scene of Bran's election to the throne, well I will not talk about the fact that it has nothing to do with his character's arc of the Tree Eyed Raven who does not want the power, let us also forget that there are little Lords who have nothing to do in these deliberations *Brienne, Davos, etc*

So why the great Lord of Westeros who must elect a King choose Bran Stark? These great Lords, who logically are supposed to defend their personal interests, and not the people's (not like Dany would have done it! Like Tyrion telling Jon about the usefulness of the Night's Watch now: "It must be a place for the bastards and broken things to go "... Nice your new world ...) These Lords who are mostly ambitious, how they were able to agree to put Brandon Stark on the throne, in addition Tyrion's arguments are completely nul, that's how, logically, it should have happened:

*Editing in the video : Tyrion says: "And who had a better story, than Bran the Broken ..." After a few seconds, all the Lords laugh out loud *

In a realistic situation, the one who has the biggest army and the strongest alliances should have claimed the throne for himself/herself (like Robin the capricious child who controls the Knights of the Vale or Dorne who does not implied in no war before and has its army intact ((yes Ellaria swear loyalty to Dany and was attacking by Euron, but her army did not leave Dorne)), even Yara could have tried something ... but...ok...) or they all agreed to declare the independence of each kingdom, but no, all these great Lords have become angels who want the good of all (it's not the GoT that was sold to me ... lol It is well known, the nobles always do good for the common people). In addition they accept the independence of the North without saying anything, without even asking the same thing. So we have a Stark Queen of the North, another Stark King of the 6 Kingdoms, everything is fine, in terms of political realism, that’s sucks, and that's where we see that the change of writing has been radical over the seasons. In the end, this internal logic of realism, which was the strength of the series in the early seasons was swept and so it is not surprising that many fans of the first hour are disappointing.

The show conclude on a rather classic happy ending (if you think this has a happy ending, you have not paying attention ... it's hilarious this meme now lol) for the remaining 4 Stark, then is it a bad end? (Yes !!!!) It depends on what you are looking for as a spectator, in the same way that there is different type of author, there is also different type of spectator, there are those who are more in the analysis, which gives great importance to the plot and the internal coherence of the story, and there are those who are more in the emotional, who are attached to the characters and therefore relieve that they have a positive end (I totally agree, for me it's the consistency that is essential, I do not find any logic when I look at the last two seasons compared to the first six seasons , so it's a very bad end for me , besides, my favorite character was massacred ... so ...)

No end could have satisfied everyone (but here they still screw up the entire show lol)

IV - Rushed

Last but not least, there were too few episodes to conclude a story of this magnitude, everything goes too fast (too little dialogue, and too much weakness in those that we had) the war against the Wights Walkers was prepared during 7 seasons, we were told and repeated that it was the real war, that all the others were futile *Jon in front of Cersei and his speech on the only war that matter...* Almost all the plot of the season 7 is about the AOTD, and finally in the season 8 the threat is wiped out from the first battle (it was impossible to fight the battle for few days honestly, they could not have held long against the Night King, and all the Wighs Walkers and the dead, I would have preferred a massacre in Winterfell, and some characters who runs thanks to the remaining dragons or on foot, we were promised a slaughter, in the end, very few deaths during the battle, the slaughter took place at KL, but that on extras ... I will have seen a bittersweet end with almost all Westeros decimate, very few humans left, and a magical way thanks to Bran and his abilities to kill the Night King and his army. But well ...) the threat of Wights Walkers is destroyed in the first battle, and without much loss. The impression that this gives is that, in the end, Wight Walkers were not so dangerous that it was enough of a little dagger well placed. (Also have no answer on all the symbols etc ... it will be necessary to watch the prequel to know ... The answers should have been in the show, with a number of more important episodes!)

It's a shame, this war would have deserved a whole season.

In the last two seasons there are also very brutal ellipses, sometimes incoherent * Dany who will help beyond the wall, she arrives, despite the distance, in time to save the team Jon ... * the showrunners take sometimes big shortcut, by example Varys treason seems instantaneous and premature and barely 5 minutes later he is burned. And the worst is the madness of Daenerys, which is too sudden, not progressive enough (and illogical for the character, from my point of view), and seems a little artificial.

The most frustrating thing is that HBO was up for more episodes, but the showrunners decided to do just 13 we do not know why (Star Wars? XD I sympathize for you the fans ^^)

We would have loved to have more episodes and in addition it would have allowed to develop the intrigues, not to give an impression of sloppy end.

Too bad there were good ideas in this season, Daenerys who goes crazy is a very good idea (still not agree ...), the Stark who unite to defeat the Night King was also a good idea ( you forget Dany there ... without her ... without her they would all be dead and it would be much better!). The problem is not the big choice of plot (except Mad Queen Dany ...), it's how they are developed, too suddenly, everything goes too fast and seems to misuse, and as it's GoT and that we love this show, we would like so much better (especially when the fans invest so much money in the show ...)

-------------------------

I do not translate the end because even if it's a very good series as he says, the end completely ruin the good seasons for me, if I want to watch the first 6 seasons in the future, I always have in the head the horrible ending and I will have one desire, it is turn off my TV from the first episode. Having Daenerys as a favorite character, seeing her abused, raped, used and then seeing her get up, become stronger, become a queen, and know how it ends for her ... no thanks. But it's not only Dany, the other characters have also suffered a massacre, coherence, logic and realism have been slaughtered in favor of surprise and spectacle.

I could have summed it up in one word, or two: Hollywood, Money.

#daenerys targaryen #video youtube #anti got #anti d&d #bad showrunners #bad writers #tyrion lannister #jon snow #george r.r. martin

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bobowhooo · 5 years

Text

Hard feelings

Genre : Rom-com/ Smut/ Highschool!AU

Starring : Exo, OC, and other OC highschool assholes

Pairing : Baekhyun X OC and OC X sehun shhhh

Summary : Prom, the biggest night of any shallow teens life. The day the boy becomes a man and the girl becomes a woman. And naturally, as a queen bee always should, I had a terrible fucking time.

One shot. (bang)

“Hey, bestie!” Jayde yelled happily as she stepped out of her new 2019 honda accord, given to her for her eighteenth birthday. I let out a breath before locking my convertible. For some reason, i wanted to shoot her for how cheery she sounds. My eyes traveled to jayde’s legs, clad in form-fitting, light pink, Pepto like high waisted jeans, walking over to me with a wide smile on her dewy fresh face. Despite the fact that inside I want to barf all over the loud costume she thinks is an adequate outfit, she looks terribly happy right now, So I’ll put on a smile and let it slide.

“He finally did it! He finally asked me to go!” She hugged me up when her heels tapped close enough to me. I stumbled a bit into my car and threw my hands around her waist. About three months ago jayde got involved with the schools biggest douche bucket, QB of the football team, known for fucking three girls in the empty party planning club room. You know, that type. They made out one time at a party after they bonded over their favorite sex position and jayde claims it was love at first french kiss. They have been “on and off”, you could say, ever since then. But, to be blunt, “on and off” was really just him doing whatever the fuck he wanted to, and her crying in my neck about it. Anyways, now that the prom is coming up, she’s been on her best behavior to make sure she’s the one he asks. And to my surprise, she succeeded.

“That’s so great jay!” I said with a sweet smile. “You know, you should thank me too.”

Her smile faltered slightly and she gave me a confused look as if she doesn’t understand. She should.

“Ehh come on jay. You and I both know how much everyone in school shipped us together, if I didn’t pass on him he would be begging on his knees to go to prom with me right now, and not you. No offense.”

“Y-yeah, true! Thank you!” She said with a giggle. “But you have baekhyun anyways, you don’t need him.”

“Say that things name again and I’ll bitch slap you so hard, your dead dog will feel it.”

Jayde gasped as she covered her mouth with her manicured hand, scrunching her eyebrows in shock and fear. I shot daggers at her face then her shitty pants and stormed away with a tinge of anger. How dare she mention him while im gracing her with my presence. Is she like, dim or some shit? I’m pretty sure this school is making a big mistake by letting her graduate. I climbed up the stairs to the entrance doors of bellewood high. Every time I enter this building I wonder why I haven’t transferred to some random prep school yet. But then I remember my dad’s “I want you to live a normal life like I did.” Speech. I don’t get how you can work hard to make sure that in the future your children get the opportunities you could never have, just to push them in a school less than that of a wonderful opportunity. Don’t get me wrong, this is certainly a school for upper middle class, and I guess that’s good enough for right now. but some people just didn’t get that memo. Which is unfortunate, to say the least.

I pushed open the doors and swayed my way into everyone’s eyes. As always, stealing everyone’s attention. A slight smirk made its way on my face. What an attention whore I am. Usually, I stare straight down the hall as I strut to my locker, but in the corner of my eyes, I saw people not looking at me, but pass me. What kind of freaky twisted nightmare is this? I stopped before turning around, only to bump my chest into someone.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

I eyed the person stealing people’s attention, which by the way is practically my birthright, and scoffed.

“Gina.”

“Piece of shit, I mean, baekhyun.”

“Real original.” The boy said to me with less than no emotion. His fresh and fragrant scent blew passed me as he walked away as if he never even saw me in the first place. Another scoff accidentally made it’s way out of my mouth and I softly stomped my foot. I hate how powerless I feel against him, but at the same time, that’s what’s so attractive.

Baekhyun, the school’s golden boy. He’s pretty much good at everything he does and still stays humble while he’s at it. Although he’s definitely not oblivious to how perfect he is. He’s the kind of guy that comes in your dreams to sweep you off your feet. Except he’s right in front of you, somewhere on the football field, or in the school’s latest musical. Yes, you heard me correctly, the school musical, I remember just how wet I got watching him play don lockwood in singing in the rain. Recently though, he’s become even more of a player than before, after a rumor that his magical fingers brought the most popular girl in school to a very obvious climax in biology.

Good times. I would do it again in a second, If everything between us didn’t go to shit.

As I made my way to my locker I caught a glimpse of baekhyun in what looks like a forced interaction with my ex right hand. The beast-like bitch shoved her way in between me and baekhyun not too long ago so I dropped her like any person in their mind would.....and maybe almost ruined her life in the process. I guess some could say that’s the reason why baekhyun left me the way he did. I personally have no opinion on it because I refuse to acknowledge the huge L baekhyun and that skank bag maeline are trying to serve me.

With all that being said, prom is coming and my ex-date is now stuffing his tongue down my ex-friend’s throat. I have no one to go with. Me! I have no prom date! Gina hwang! Genie of the bellewood high! Even the weird girl, angie tice, that’s deaf in one ear got a fucking date! I mean he’s a weirdo too but that’s beside the point!

Ehem.

Yes, as I was saying, it’s really out of the ordinary for me, the most popular girl in school, to be in a date emergency for one of the biggest nights of my life. But in my defense, my fondness for that hoe bag had me blinded into thinking that I wouldn’t need a back up plan.

Note to self: boys will be boys, no matter how much you want them to be men. NEXT TIME, I WILL BE PREPARED!

I huffed and unlocked my locker, placing my bag in it neatly as I thought about who the fuck could save me from my crisis. I don’t need any real feelings to be involved. Just someone that looks cute with me hanging on their arm in my expensive prom dress. Someone that will make baekhyun eat his heart out.

There’s that adonis in the drama club, and that sexy ass soccer player. But to be honest there’s a rumor going around that they’re happy for each other, if you know what I mean. But I don’t believe that. Besides, who wouldn’t go straight for me?

“Ahah! Stop it loeyyy!” Jayde spoke playfully to chanyeol as he continued to kiss her all over like an excited puppy. I rolled my eyes and slammed my locker, grabbing their attention.

“Oh, it’s dumb and fucker.”

“Genieeee.” Chanyeol said dragging my name. “Found a date yet?”

“Don’t patronize me, asshole.” I turned my head in a pissed off nature. Who does he think he is? At least my date won’t have the IQ of negative 12.

“She’s in a bad mood honey bun.” She spoke in a sweet voice, talking as if I wasn’t standing right here.

I scoffed and turned away. “For your info, I have a date, he just, doesn’t know it yet.”

“Thanks, coach!” I said while running off the field. Soccer practice has become particularly grueling lately, now that the next game will be against our biggest competition. Berkwood high, our rivals since before this school was even a thing. Everyone from that school is a complete asshole, in all honesty, they’re stuck up attitudes make you want to choke them to death, then do the same to yourself. Surprisingly the soccer players are worst than the football players in this case. Probably because most of their football players aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. Our football team always wins against theirs, but their soccer team is better and much harder to beat. Too bad for them though, because lately we’ve been on a winning streak, and I don’t plan to stop that any time soon. But with all that being said, I have been so busy prom is the last thing on my mind. Which translates to - “I don’t have a date or a tux, so im not going.”

I sprinted into the locker room and went straight to taking off my soccer jersey. No matter how much I love soccer, I hate the dirty feeling I have afterward. Sweat, grass, and a dank odor, all things I hate when I'm not on the field.

“Nice abs.” I jumped from the sudden voice filling my ears and interrupting my thoughts. I instinctively covered my stomach with my arm before looking up at the intruder.

“Gina.”

“Sehun.”

“Just what the hell do you want?”

“You.”

A fantasy. “What?”

She looked at me with a smirk and her pretty eyes were low. Im pretty sure I fantasized about this before, but I have a lot of those so I can’t say for certain. she gave a little pout before reaching out for my arm. revealing my abs again.

“I really need your help, sehun.”

“You and I both know when you need help it means I might end up either getting my ass beat or getting expelled.”

“That won’t happen this time. I just am in a prom crisis.”

“What do you mean?”

“Me and baekhyun broke up. Didn’t you hear?”

“I heard, but I thought it was all just a stupid rumor.”

“No, he dumped me after mae made up a stupid rumor that he slept with her. And I kind of.....tried to ruin her life after that. So now he thinks I'm some kind of monster, or whatever.”

“Ahhh I seeee, so im your last resort.”

“W-well, y-yeahh.”

My eyes traveled from her face to her body, the only reason I'm hesitant is because I don’t want her to see how excited I actually am. To be honest, I have had my eye on her since I first came to this school, but baekhyun swept her up before I gained the balls to say even a word to her. No girl has caught my attention since I met her, so this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. All I ever wanted was one night with her, one night, and she’ll fall in love. I just know it!

“Well, you’re in luck. I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t had the time to find a date.”

“Oh my god! That’s perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She hugged me in excitement and I felt self-conscious about how sweaty and smelly I must be. I don’t think she minded though.

About an hour later, I was clean and walking down the busy halls. I can’t help but think I should tell baekhyun about the fact that I'm going to prom with his ex of what? like a week? Me and him are friends so I owe it to him don’t i? But then again everyone on the football team and soccer team are friends, so does it reallyyy matter? Fuck it, we’re friends but not so close that I owe him an explanation for this. What I really should be thinking about is what I'm going to wear. It’s late but I think i can still get my hands on a tuxedo.

“Sehun! Get your ass over here!”

I looked to the left side of the hall at baekhyun yelling at me with his arm over that mae girl. He looks like a complete asshole if you ask me, i still don’t know how gina ever fell for him of all people. I walked over to him with only one thing on my mind.

Should i tell him?

“Long time no talk! Where you been?”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy on the field. We have a big game coming up.”

“Oh rigghht the game. Well, good luck with that.” He gave a bright smile to me as if that was going to put more umph to his words. The hell is he so happy for?

“Yeah, thanks.” I said as i side eyed mae.

“Oh! that reminds me. Do you have a date for prom yet? I'm asking because i could always help you out.”

“N-no need. I have a date.” I said startled by the sudden question. Is he always this nice? I never expected a sentence like that to come from him.

“Oh? Who’s that?”

“Oooh! I know!” Mae randomly barged her way into our convo. “It’s that girl from the volleyball team that goes to all of your soccer games!”

I was surprised by her answer but ended up scowling in my head. Who could be friends with such a big mouth, good lord. I don’t even know what girl she’s talki- never mind, i do. But still, could she just shut up. “It’s not her. I’m sure she has a date by now though.”

“Just tell usss, we’re going to see you there anyway.” Baekhyun said before lightly hitting my arm.

He’s right, everyone is going to see us there. There’s no reason to hide it any longer. I looked down at my feet and murmured gina’s name.

“Who?” Baekhyun asked with a confused pout.

“Yeah, who?” Mae asked like some kind of echo to baekhyun. This just might be the worst couple I’ve ever seen, and that says a lot since i go to high school.

I rolled my eyes discreetly before clearing my throat. “Gina.”

It felt like after the mention of her name they both went on pause. Baekhyun looked completely shook as he looked at me, making no other movements. Mae looked the same way but with a tinge more anger probably due to baekhyun’s reaction.

Is it really that big of a deal?

“Well, if you will excuse me.” I said quietly to the two statue-like people standing in front of me. “I have a tux to rent.”

My hand ran through my hair when i walked out of my last class. Today was unexpectedly a success, to be honest. Sehun of all people not having a date yet is a pure miracle. I mean, you can’t blame me for thinking that since he’s almost as popular as baekhyun. You would guess some girl would be up his ass about the prom by now. All that aside, I’m just glad i don’t have to go stag or attend the prom with one of those cringe “gal dates” on some, my prom date is my best friend shit. Plus i don’t hang out with losers so why would any of my friends not have a date. It would just never work.

I reached for the door with my right hand. completely ready to get out of this trash ass school until i felt someone grip my left hand. I could tell it was baekhyun by how soft the palm of his hand is. He still has calluses on his fingertips from trying to learn how to play the guitar with chanyeol. He still owes me a love song. And i still want it.

“What do you want, baekhyun?”

“So i guess i’m going to see you at prom with sehun tomorrow.” What he said wasn’t a question in the slightest. I looked at him as his head was a bit low. He looked genuinely hurt by the situation. But what did he expect from me? Did he want me to not go to prom, or go alone and sad, while i watch him dance with the bitch that made up a fucked up rumor to get between us? “I-i understand. I guess it just didn’t hit me that you’ll be there with someone else.” He added after locking eyes with me.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. It definitely hit me hard that you’re going with maeline of all people.” I pulled my hand out of his and folded my arms.

“There’s more to that story than what it looks like. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“Save it. Don’t come to me like this. Remember who broke up with who. Despite what i tell people.”

“Gina.” His eyes had so many emotions in them it pissed me off. Who is he to break up with me and still have me feel helpless with just one look. He’s like hurting me. I don’t get hurt though. I hurt people. This isn’t me.

“I don’t care what you have to say baekhyun. At this point, all i want to do is go to prom, get my crown, and fuck sehun for being such a good date.”

Even i winced a bit after saying that. Although, i hope he feels just as bad as i do. Yes, I know. I'm a bitch.

Baekhyun’s puppy-like eyes filled with something other than hurt before he looked away from me for the first time since he made eye contact with me. “You’re right. Why am i here with you?” He said with his cheeks heating up most likely in anger. “I should be with my date right now. I think i’ll take her to my parent's cabin after prom too.”

“B-but, that’s our place.”

“No, it isn’t, there is no ours. Because there is no us. Not anymore. I get it now. Your feelings were never as deep as mine.”

He sniffled and took a deep breath before storming past me and bumping into my shoulder out of the doors behind my back.

Tonight is the night. I just hope it lives up to my expectations, because if not i can guarantee I'm going to scream in someone's face. My mom always told me her prom was sooo amazing because that was the night my dad told her he loved her. Now, i definitely won’t be hearing that tonight, but in my defense getting the prom queen title will be better. I think. And i know my mom can’t relate to that. So ha!

I smoothed out my dress while staring myself down in the mirror. The dress i picked is a dark red satin, strapless, open back ball gown with high slits. It’s like what a really sexy princess would wear. Which is pretty much my aesthetic. I smiled at myself in complete satisfaction with how i look right now. Im so fucking hot. How can people even handle me?

“Honey! Your date is here!”

Deep breath in and a soft slow one out. Why am i nervous? I asked myself as i walked out of my room and to the stairs. I always wanted this moment to be with baekhyun. Him, at the bottom of the stairs, and me ascending down like an angel in the disguise of a really fucking hot teenage girl. His face in complete shock because of how stunning i am, and me smiling as if i don’t know how good i look, even though i know for damn sure im drop dead gorgeous. I was daydreaming so hard when i reached the stairs i almost had a heart attack after missing a step. if my hand didn’t death grip the wooden rail i would have definitely face planted by now. I gave a shy smile to my parents and sehun who were staring at me. I probably looked like an idiot just now, but with the way sehun is looking at me, im going to guess i didn’t look thaaat bad. I continued my slow walk down the stairs so everyone could bask in my beautiful presence. I took sehun’s hand when i got to the bottom and kissed him on the cheek as thanks. A flash hit my side profile and i whipped my head towards my mom to scowl at her.

“I'm sorry honey you just looked so gorgeous.”

I dropped my scowl for a sweet smile and nodded. “Naturally. I guess i can understand that reaction.” I spoke smugly.

Sehun’s hand traveled to my waist. “Yes, you look gorgeous. Like i just-”

“Hands off the merchandise kid. Don’t make me cut those fingers off.” My dad said with all the intimidation he could muster up.

my mom hit him lightly on the chest to stop him from staring at my date “Lenny.” She said, soft but stern.

“Right, well we wouldn’t want that now would we.” Sehun spoke sarcastically while trying to still seem polite.

“Let’s just get out of here!” I grabbed sehuns and made my way to the door as i heard my parents say random things in the background. I wasn’t listening though.

“A limo! Sehun you shouldn’t have!” I said with a surprised smile.

“You ordered it though?”

“Ugh, it’s perfect!” I said as the chauffeur opened the door for me. I smiled as he helped me in. A princess never gets tired of being treated like one. Sehun plopped in after me with no help from the chauffeur even though his face made it seem like he wanted it.

“So, chanyeol is coming?” The handsome boy asked.

“Yes, actually he is.”

“Oh.” Silence filled the vehicle and i already started scrolling through my phone. If this was baekhyun, he would have been talking my ear off, and i would have given the same thing back. I guess the rumor that he liked me was really just a rumor. If he did he would be more talkative right?

“I'm sorry. I'm awkward like this because i’ve always dreamed of going to prom with you. You’re probably already thinking not too good things about me.” The boy said while rubbing the back of his neck out of nervousness.

I looked at him with wide eyes. “Me? Not to sound insecure or oblivious, but why me?”

“Yeah, you. If I'm being honest i have liked you since i first saw you at homecoming.”

“That early huh? Well, how come you never made a move on me, sehun?” I said and nudged him playfully.

“Well, if you haven’t realized, im a strong believer in the whole love is timing type of thing. I watch for an opening more than i make openings. If that even makes sense.”

I was looking deep into his eyes without even noticing. His words are so genuine and his eyes are shaking and nervous. If i touched his hand right now i bet it would be moist from a small amount of sweat. He’s so sweet. I was smiling without trying and somehow our places on the seats of this limo came closer to each other. He’s so different from baekhyun, which for right now, seems like all i need.

“I just admired you from afar for a while. So im nervous because all the things i wanted are coming to me so suddenly.” A nervous chuckle came out of his mouth when i came even closer to him than before. He cleared his throat and nodded his head as if he was agreeing with himself to keep calm. “I don’t know why I'm nervous. I'm not usually like this.”

“Who would have thought the cunning star soccer player oh sehun was such a cute, nervous mess.”

“Im not.” He said looking at me with a goofy kind of smile.

“Prove it.” I looked him in the eyes intensely daring him to make the first move in the back of this limo. “I promise i don’t bite. I might scratch a little though.”

He looked mesmerized before we both got startled by the screaming heard from outside the limo. I didn’t notice that we had stopped moving until now. I sighed before the door of the limo was harshly pulled open and chanyeol jumped in without acknowledging me and sehun. We both moved out of the way instinctively as he pushed his way in. He had a bottle of champagne in hand while he pulled jayde in and onto his lap.

“Oh my god! You look so good gina!” She yelled before chanyeol moved her out of his way so he could get a good look at me. They obviously did some pre-partying before they got in here. Judging by their appearance they most likely made out on her doorstep and drunk more than half of that champagne bottle in chanyeol’s hand. Real classy.

Jayde climbed all over me with compliments and as i fought off her affection, i spotted in the corner of my eye chanyeol staring down my date in confusion. “Sehun?” Chanyeol asked with a completely surprised look.

“Hm?” Sehun asked reluctantly. He didn’t look at chanyeol in the eye when he answered which helped me understand what’s going on perfectly. He’s scared of chanyeol. And there is a high chance of chanyeol trying whip sehun’s ass for going with me to prom. So he has good reason to be.

“What the fuck!?” Chanyeol said loudly. Sehun looked so uncomfortable trying not to provoke him any more than he’s provoking himself. “Why would you go with her? Aren’t you supposed to be baekhyun’s friend?” Chanyeol asked aggressively.

“Look. They’re broken up now. get over it.” Sehun looked at him in the eyes finally with an almost cold stare. I sighed before lowering my hands from jayde’s face. This isn’t going to be good. Considering how close he is to baekhyun, this is probably really triggering for him.

“Chanyeol, let it go. Just let him be.” Jayde said in a soft calming voice i didn’t know she had. I nodded in agreement.

Oh, did i forget to say that? Chanyeol has slight anger issues. And when it comes to someone he cares about, there’s no way he isn’t going to get heated.

The huge boy jumped from his seat and grabbed the collar of sehun’s tuxedo and pulled his fist back before sehun pushed him off and a full on fight between the two broke out. I sat there and watched as jayde barged in trying to break them apart.

What a fucking disaster.

The only thing that could make this worst is-

All of a sudden the car came to a hard stop sliding us all to the other side of the limo. I was cushioned by the seats while everyone else had a rougher ride. I got up to knock on the partition. “Hey! what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

The door of the limo whipped open and the chauffeur popped his head with an angry expression. I looked at him in complete confusion.

“Everyone out. now!”

“I refuse!” I said with a pout. How could he put us out like that. No, no, how could he put me out like that!? Im the one who paid for this stupid fucking limo, plus, i wasn’t even participating in that heathen like behavior.

“I said out!”

“Okay, okay!” Jayde said as she got out first. Chanyeol pushed sehun out of the vehicle while he stepped out too.

I let my face stay in one of annoyance and confusion as i looked at the rude chauffeur. How dare he. “Ugh! At least let me stay i wasn’t even doing anything!” I pleaded.

“No! I would rather go broke then go through another wild prom night. Did your parents not teach you any manners. The hell is wrong with this generation!?”

I scrunched up my face as he pulled me out of the car with his glove covered hand. Sehun grabbed me away from the man with a scowl. “It’s alright we’ll just call an uber.”

“Tch! Good fucking luck!” The chauffeur yelled at us before hopping in his limo and hauling ass like a maniac.

Loving prom night already.

It’s been about an hour since i arrived and if I'm being honest with myself i haven’t taken my eyes off of the entrance since i walked in here. I can’t help but want to see her on the night she used to talk about with me all the time. The one night i always imagined with her.

But despite that, she’s a snake in a sexy little sheep costume. She never really loved me and i have to remind myself of that when i see her. Which will hopefully be soon. Only so i can prove to myself that i can stay strong. She’s not good for me. And neither is mae but that’s another story for another day.

“Baekhyunniee!” Mae squeaked as she jumped up to throw her arms around my neck.

“Hey...”

“Are you having a good timee?”

“You could say that. Where have you been?” i asked cutely even though i didn’t really care.

“Oh, you knowww, here and there. Want something to drink?”

I hummed a response and looked away. I wish i cared more about how suspicious she was just now. If it was gina i would have pressed more.

Speak of the devil.

I caught her eyes as she waltzed in like some kind of angel. I bit my lip when i looked from her head to the end of her dark red dress. I always loved that color on her. I sucked in breath and tried my best to look away but those slits that show her soft thighs are driving me crazy. What i would give to just fu-

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in.” Mae said as she roughly handed me my cup.

“Thanks.”

The girl snagged my hand dragged me in the direction gina and sehun were standing. I have to admit they look together. Saying that to myself will keep me from strangling him. I think.

“Oh! Genie you cameee!” Mae said with fake surprise. I rolled my eyes and gently pulled my hand out of hers only to have her swing my arm around her shoulders.

Gina smiled and touch sehun’s arm lightly. “Well of course, how could i not? I would never miss the biggest night of my life.”

“Well, i just thought since you lost one thing very important to you already. You might lose something else tonight. It might have been better to stay home.”

The beautiful girl in red cocked one eyebrow and tilted her head. “Poor poor maeline. If you want to be prom queen you could have just said so. I would have let you have it gladly. But only after you take out of my cold dead manicure.”

Gina bumped shoulders with mae before walking away with sehun’s hand in hers. “Hm, i bet she thinks she’s got it in the bag. But i know for sure she won’t win.” Mae smirked and lifted her drink to her mouth.

“Do you know....who will?” i asked only to see if she’ll say what im thinking.

“Me of course.”

I knew it. “Mae, d-did you tamper with the votes?”

“Maybe. Don’t worry baekhyunnie, you’re still prom king.” She said with a wink.

Well shit.

“here.” Sehun spoke while handing me a red plastic cup.

“Thanks. I'm sorry you had to see that.” I took a sip of my drink thinking about how he must think im a monster like baekhyun now.

“No, no, it’s no big deal. That girl deserves to be told off a thousand times. If i were you i would have clocked her by now.”

“Well, with all that being said, it did hurt figuring out that someone i thought was my friend really wasn’t. And because of the weird way i react to being hurt, baekhyun thinks im some fucked up psycho and not only that but im almost positive maeline’s parents are in the process of a divorce.”

“Goddamn. The hell did you do?”

I stared at him with emotionless eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright, alright. I won’t press.”

We looked away from each other and stopped talking completely. Maybe i should have just told him what i did. My eyes locked on the dance floor as everyone there smiled brightly and danced about. They look so carefree. I want that.

“Sehun? Are you a dancer?” I asked before taking another sip of my drink.

“Not really.” He spoke with a shy smile.

I looked at him while returning the smile, then looked back to the dance floor. I could faintly hear sehun talk to me before i zoned out on baekhyun. He sported a black suit, no tie, and his dress shirt was opened just enough so you could see his perfect chest peeking out. I held my breath when he smiled. He looks so good tonight. How can i control myself with him looking like that?

“Gina?” Sehun called my name noticing i wasn’t paying attention. I hummed a response but kept my eyes on baekhyun the whole time. Finally, the dazzling boy locked eyes with me from afar. At this point, i tuned out everything else but him. He’s the only thing i can see, and i don’t hate it.

He smirked at me when i looked at his chest. He cocked one eyebrow to provoke me more and i chuckled a bit into my hand. I watched him leave the dance floor and walk closer to the table me and my date are seated at. I straightened up and put my hands in my lap trying to keep my composure.

“Could i possibly steal your date?”

I looked at sehun’s face with a slight surprise in my eyes. I had no idea he was going to ask that. Sehun looked from baekhyun to me like he was thinking hard on the situation. Now that we’re here like this i feel like an asshole because im not going to hesitate to get up and leave with baekhyun even though i came here with sehun. I wish i could stop the strong hold he has on me. But then again, maybe i just don’t want to.

Sehun looked upset by this but nodded again like before. He exhaled and closed his eyes before reluctantly saying, "No reason to ask my permission. She was always yours anyways."

He looks defeated and it's my fault. I shouldn't have come here with him. Baekhyun gently slid his hand in mine before pulling me up out of my chair and leading us out of the room the prom is being held in. I looked back at sehun until the crowd blocked my view of him. I messed up with him, but i have to follow my heart. We entered the empty hall silently, walking with a lot of words on our chests. Baekhyun stopped walking to turn towards me with his eyes glistening with emotion. I’m sure mine looked just the same.

"Okay. there are obvious feelings between us still. Even after everything." I said wanting to lead the conversation instead of him.

"Hard ones." He added softly.

"So, I'm just going to give up and say it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such a bitch, I'm sorry for the way i treated you and everyone else. Im so sorry for reacting the way i did when i heard the rumor. If only i knew how to not react to being hurt with trying to hurt, things would have been different."

"Im sorry too. Im sorry for not noticing. And I'm so sorry for agreeing to go to prom with mae. I just thought if i did it would make up for the things she was going through after what you did."

"It was my fault. I should have fixed it myself. I feel terrible for putting you in that position. I'm trouble. I don't understand why you ev-"

"Hey, you're the best kind of trouble. We all have our problems, But you wouldn't be you without them, and i only want you."

I stared at him before my eyes got heavier and our lips were pulling each other closer like magnets. It feels so good to get everything off my chest. It feels so good to not hide anymore, or have to put up a strong front. With him, i can be myself and that makes me happy. And not just my head, but my heart too. isn't that all people ask for? His right hand slid into the slit of my skirt and i slid my hand in the opening of his dress shirt. I could feel his heart beating faster the farther he got up my thigh. I think it's adorable. If i couldn't feel it with my hands i would have never guessed that i make his heart race like this.

"Baby, baby. I have something to tell you. You know, while we're getting things out in the air." He spoke between kisses.

"And what is that?" I asked while unbuttoning his shirt more for my satisfaction.

"Maeline tampered with the prom queen votes." He said reluctantly.

"Oh yeah, i know." I said, now sliding my hands down his torso.

"Wait you-"

"Who do you think i am baekhyun? There's almost nothing i don't know when it comes to the goings on in my fucking school." He smiled with an impressed look on his face and bit my smiling bottom lip. "Now, let's go to the infamous abandoned party planning room and forget about prom for tonight."

"I fucking love you." He whispered while excitedly pushing his forehead into mine.

"I love you too baekhyun."

I have a strong feeling that’s going to be the last time i see gina while she’s not with baekhyun. Actually that’s wrong, he’s always going to have her heart. I know because i can feel it in mine. Something else i know is that they aren’t coming back. Which suhcks. I exhaled deeply. Just calm down sehun, Tonight was good enough for now, Your timing was just a bit off. Next time it’ll work out. Yeah next time.

“Okay prom goers! It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Time to announce the prom king and queen!” The young history teacher yelled through the microphone.

I hope baekhyun doesn’t get it.

Yeah, i said it.

“Drumroll please!”

I looked around the room for any sign of the two only to find a smirking maeline. I wonder if she even noticed her date is gone. She finally started to look around the room and i quickly turned my head so she won’t come this way. But, to no avail, i could hear her heels clapping this way aggressively.

“Where! the hell! is baekhyun!?” She yelled at my side profile.

“I wish i knew.”

“Oh, you know. Now tell me! Before they call my name!”

Her name?

“Dude, if i knew, which i don’t, i would tell you.”

“And this year's prom queen and king arrreee!”

“Tell me, damn it!” She yelled louder as if that was going to change anything as she roughed up my tux. I'm not saying i would hurt a woman. But if i was a girl, maeline could catch these hands.

“Gina hwang and byun baekhyun!” The history teacher yelled again excitedly.

I clapped along with everyone else while mae’s grip on me loosened. She looked pale with confusion and i snorted up a laugh before trying my best to hold it down. She thought she was going to win.

“Congradulations! Come on up heree!”

“Looks like tonight is just not your night maeline.” Her face changed expressions quickly and her eyes watered fast. She stomped her foot and i put my hand on her shoulder.

“Byun baekhyun!? Gina hwang!?” The teacher looked around n confusion.

“Come on. I’ll buy you some ice cream, you snakey bitch.”

Maeline sniffled and nodded her head with a pout as she moved my hand off her shoulder. For some reason, she looks kind of...cute.

“No seriously, where is baekhyun and gina?!”

AUTHORS NOTE : Haiii! im sorry it took so long to give you this one shot! but it;s here finally and i hope you enjoyed it. I hope you think of my appreciation for all your love and support when you read this! Also any sehun x gina shippers send me something if you want an alternate ending. *wink wink*

Kissesss <3333 lailaa ~

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